The Balance of Power
by 1note
Summary: Sequel to "Heaven Can Bloody Well Wait" AU Ssn 7. The First Evil is declaring war. How will a Claimed Spike and Buffy change the outcome of the story? Each chapter covers an episode of the season.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**A/N:** Here you are, you lucky people. The sequel to my fic "Heaven Can Bloody Well Wait"! This continues my AU Spuffy story into Season 7. And I have to say, I'm pretty darn excited to see where this takes me. Happy reading! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the show.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Well, I died a million times_

_And I picked my culture well_

_And I built myself a gate_

_They can all now go to hell_

_I'm never gonna work another day in my life_

_The gods told me to relax_

_They said I'm gonna be fixed up right_

_I'm never gonna work another day in my life_

_I'm way too busy powertripping_

_But I'm gonna shed you some light_

-Monster Magnet, "Powertrip"

Deep beneath the earth, directly under a new building constructed on top of the rubble of another, a young girl examined a particular spot of ground with an air of regret. She was petite, yet sturdily built. Her dark hair was cut short and in a pixie-ish style that suited her green eyes and freckled nose. She was wearing black cargo pants and a dark blue, long-sleeved tee. And her life had yet to exist.

"Whoa. That's a grim look you got on that borrowed face," a second figure emerged from the darkness. In life, he was Warren; in death, a mere costume for a being both infinitely powerful, yet utterly powerless. His face was set in a disdainful sneer as he approached his twin. "You're not thinking of actually stepping up and _doing_ something, are ya, Sparky?"

"I won't have to," the unnamed girl answered, "You can't win this."

"You mean the almighty Powers That Be won't let me?" Not-Warren waved his hands in sarcastic alarm, "Oh, no! They might give me a stern talking to!"

"Not the Powers," the girl stated calmly.

Not-Warren snorted, "What, the Slayer? Get real, sibling o' mine. I'm beyond her understanding. She's a girl! With sugar and spice and everything useless, unless you're baking. I'm more than that. More than flesh..."

He morphed into the form of Glory, the insane hellgod. "More than blood," she continued, "I'm... Y'know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me." She grinned at her silent twin. "Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips. Assuming their lips haven't been torn off. But not just yet. That's all right, though."

Glory became Adam, pacing the underground chamber like a caged tiger. "I can be patient. Everything is well within parameters. She's exactly where I want her to be."

"Is that right?" the girl spoke up, clearly unfazed by her twin's posturing.

The entity known as the First Evil transformed yet again, from Adam into Mayor Wilkins "So, what'd you think?" he challenged with his signature carefree grin, "You'd get her and the Intended to hook up and everything would be jim-dandy? All you did was give the Slayer one _huge_, exploitable weakness. Love's slipperier than a greased weasel. And the heart is so...breakable." His expression became something passing sympathetic. "Well," he sighed, "you probably had some romantic notion about love conquering all, and I respect that. But it never will."

"This world will be mine," the First Evil said, now in the guise of Drusilla, "And you'll be in the dark with me again, forever singing our little songs." She traced an outline of the girl's cheek with one sharpened fingernail. The gesture was strangely affectionate. "You like our little songs, don't you?" Not-Dru cooed, "You always have, right from the beginning."

She changed once again, into the ancient vampire known as the Master. "And that's where we're going," he declared, "Right back to the beginning. Not the Bang. Not the Word. The true beginning." He circled the chamber, his stride unhurried. "The next few months are going to be quite a ride," he mused, "and I think we're all going to learn something about ourselves in the process. You'll learn you're a pathetic schmuck, if it hasn't sunk in already." His already wrinkled nose creased further in disgust. "Look at you," he scoffed at his twin, "Trying to do what's right, just like her. You still don't get it. It's not about right. It's not about wrong."

One more transformation, and the girl found herself confronting the image of Buffy. The blonde smiled serenely. "It's about power."

"No," the girl—the First Good—responded without rancor, "It's about the _balance_ of power. That's what you never wanted to understand. That's why the Powers That Be had to have you imprisoned here at the Hellmouth."

"Right. I'm stuck here while you get to roam free," Not-Buffy sneered, "Their obedient little lapdog. And what do you do with your freedom? Nothing. Just sit back and watch while those disgusting insects crawl over the skin of the world, living their short, pointless lives."

The First Good sighed, tired of the same old arguing. "The only thing pointless is this conversation," she said, "Neither one of us is gonna change our minds, so we might as well get on with it."

"At least we can agree on that," the First Evil waved a negligent hand at her twin, "Now, if you don't mind, I have a war to orchestrate. And I'm sure you need to find a good spot to do your _watching_." She grinned contemptuously. "Enjoy the show."

The First Good smirked, as if she knew something her twin didn't. "Oh, I will." She vanished in a brief flash of light.

The First Evil scowled. "Bitch."


	2. Chapter 2: Lessons

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Sweet memories_

_Flashing very quickly by_

_Reminding me_

_And giving me a reason why_

_I know that_

_My goal is more than a thought_

_I'll be there_

_When I teach what I've been taught_

_And I've been taught..._

-Rush, "Lessons"

The newly fledged vampire slowly dug its way from the grave. Its hands emerged from the fresh-turned soil, then its arms and shoulders, then its head. The creature hissed and bared its new fangs.

"It's about power," Buffy intoned, "Who's got it, who knows how to use it. So, who's got the power, Dawn?"

The two sisters waited by the grave, watching the vampire claw its way out. Dawn stood with a stake in her hand, while Buffy crouched beside the emerging fledgeling. Spike stood a few yards away, sitting on a tombstone and smoking a cigarette. Barely into Dawn's first hands-on session with a real vamp and he was already bored to tears. He let Buffy know as much through the empathic link they shared, and also implied that she'd better make it worth his while later. He smirked as Buffy responded with amusement and a hint of something more sultry.

Oblivious to this wordless exchange, Dawn answered her older sister's question. "Well, I've got the stake," she hefted the weapon for emphasis.

"The stake is not the power," Buffy stated, straightening from her crouch to stand beside the teen.

"But he's new," Dawn protested, "He doesn't know his strength. H-He might not know all those fancy martial arts skills they...inevitably seem to...pick up."

Buffy eyed the girl levelly. "Who's got the power?"

Dawn pouted. "He does."

"Never forget it. It doesn't matter how well-prepped you are or how well-armed you are. You're a little girl."

"Woman," Dawn corrected.

"Little woman."

"I'm taller than you."

Buffy stifled an impatient sigh. "He's a vampire, okay? Demon. Preternaturally strong, skilled with powers no human could possibly ever—"

"Excuse me," the vampire unexpectedly spoke, "I, uh, think I'm stuck."

Buffy stared at the creature in disbelief. "You're stuck?"

"My foot's caught on a root or something," the vamp explained, apologetic, "I don't even know how I got down there. If you girls could just give me a hand?"

Buffy felt a ripple of amusement and glanced Spike's way to see him doubled over in silent laughter, one hand holding his stomach. Her annoyance only seemed to spur him on.

"So..." Dawn snidely drawled, "he's got the power, huh?"

"Zip it." Buffy walked over to the grave and grabbed the fledgeling by the back of his suit jacket, lifting the much larger man one-handed with little effort. Dawn stared enviously at this display of Slayer strength.

"I really appreciate it," the vamp said, still playing the confused innocent act, "It's just so dark, and I don't even know what I'm doing here." He shook the dirt off him once his feet were on the ground. "Whew! Thanks. That was a help," he smiled, then his grin turned sinister, "Unfortunately, it was the last—"

Buffy grabbed him by the throat.

"—thing you'll ever do," he wheezed through his constricted larynx.

"Listen up. I'm the Slayer. You don't wanna get into it with me. You want blood?" she turned his head towards Dawn, "You can have hers."

Normally, Dawn would've worn the protective charm Spike got for her some months ago which would have caused the newly-risen vamp to have no interest in her. But tonight it was left at home. As a result, the blood-starved vamp fixated on what he perceived as the easier kill and lunged at Dawn the second Buffy released her hold on him. Buffy went to join Spike and watched as Dawn battled her first fledgeling.

"Not too shabby," Spike remarked as the teen executed a roll that sent the vampire stumbling into a nearby grave marker. The girl triumphantly plunged her stake into the creature's chest...only to realize she missed the heart when the vamp remained undusted. She lost the upper hand after that and the fledgeling soon had her in an unbreakable bear hug.

Spike touched Buffy's arm when he sensed she was about to step in. "Give it another second, luv," he advised, "Best way for her to learn how serious this really is."

She knew he was right, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Reluctantly, Buffy held back until her sister cried out her name, the vampire's teeth grazing her throat. Only then did the Slayer rush into the fight.

Spike watched her battle the fledgeling for a moment before idly flicking away his cigarette butt and strolling over to the weapons bag. He drew a sword from the bag and, when he sensed Buffy was ready, flung the weapon into her waiting hand. With one stroke, the vamp's head was severed and the body crumbled away into dust.

Buffy helped Dawn to her feet. "It's real. It's the only lesson, Dawn. It's always real." She reached for the girl's neck. "Lemme see."

"It's nothing. Just a scrape," Dawn assured her. And she was right; nothing more than two pinpricks against the pale skin of her throat. "Plus, I had a plan the whole time," she added.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Really?

"Yeah, I planned to get killed, come back as a vampire, and bite you."

"Oi," Spike came up behind Buffy and slipped an arm around her waist, "Only vamp who gets to bite her is me."

Buffy smiled and let herself lean back into his embrace. She reminded Dawn, "You wanted to be trained."

The girl squirmed. "Well, just...the next time—"

"You did pretty well."

Dawn's eyes lit up in surprise. "I did?"

"Better'n most girls your age would have," Spike agreed.

The teen fairly glowed from the mild praise. "'Cause, you know, the whole rolling thing...I was actually using his strength, and it was very tai chi," she enthused, "Plus, I nearly got the heart."

"My first time out, I missed the heart, too," Buffy confessed.

Dawn gaped. "No way!"

"Just the once," the Slayer clarified, ignoring Spike's soundless chuckle through the link.

Dawn grinned, "Well, the next vampire I meet—"

"Next vampire you meet, you run away," Spike interrupted, his tone stern. Fighting a newly emerged fledgeling under his and Buffy's watchful eye was one thing; he wasn't about to let the Little Bit think she could take on more experienced vamps on her own. "And if I find out you haven't been wearin' the charm, I'll bite you myself," he added, though they both knew it was an empty threat.

Buffy reluctantly disentangled herself from him and knelt to pack up the weapons. "I just wish that was all we had to worry about," she sighed as she shouldered the bag and stood up, "Vampires, demons, they're nothing compared to what's coming."

Spike rolled his eyes as the three of them started for home. For the last few months it seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk about; the rebuilding of Sunnydale High School.

"I just can't believe it's back," Dawn declared.

Buffy ruefully shook her head. "Believe me, I thought I was long past it. I guess you never are. Just a few more days 'til it starts and then we'll never know what's coming next."

"For god's sake," Spike growled, "It's just a sodding school."

"A school built _directly on top of the Hellmouth_," Buffy stressed, "Place is a magnet for every demon, ghost, and curse imaginable."

"And Dawn knows what to keep an eye out for," Spike countered, "The girl's gonna do fine. Won't you, Niblet?"

"I'll be fine," Dawn was all too eager to agree.

Unfortunately, Buffy was less than reassured.

* * *

Late that night, Buffy lay in bed paging through the thin book written by disgraced Nineteenth Century Watcher Michael Poole. It was in this book that Buffy and the Scoobies learned that Spike was different from other vampires for a reason, rather than as a fluke. According to Michael—or rather the mysterious "Guiding Spirit" who dictated the book to him—Spike was something called an Intended. The very _first_ Intended, in fact. Just as the Slayer was a human with a trace of the Dark in her to give her enhanced strength and healing, the Intended was a vampire with a spark of the Light in him, which enabled him to retain some of his humanity even after he was turned. The Intended was meant to balance out the Slayer, their union bringing stability within themselves as well as giving them even greater strength in an equal partnership.

Buffy mused how funny it was that she and Spike learned all this _after_ they forged said union by way of an ancient, and heretofore mythical, vampiric practice known as the Claim. It linked their lifeforces, enabled them to feel each other's emotions, and, according to legend, if one of them died, the other perished as well. Nobody was sure if this last part was true, since there was no written record of a Claim ever existing. They couldn't exactly put it to the test.

Buffy sighed and rubbed the Claim mark on the side of her neck. It was a scar left behind when Spike bit her, only the way it healed, it looked almost like a dark red tattoo. Spike had a mark of his own, shaped like Buffy's human bite. More permanent than wedding rings. And for them, permanent took on a whole other meaning. Another thing Buffy learned from the book was that she was, in fact, immortal. She honestly didn't know how she felt about this, since she'd long ago cultivated the habit of not thinking too far ahead. It just didn't pay off, since Slayers had such notoriously short lifespans. At least, all the Slayers before her. Buffy was something new, something unknown, and there were so many questions left to answer.

The bedroom door opened and Spike entered, having brushed his teeth a moment ago. Buffy was amused when she found out how fastidious the vampire was about oral hygiene. His flossing bordered on obsessive. It made sense, though, considering how vital a vampire's teeth were.

Spike shut the door and started removing his clothes, tossing them into the hamper as he made his way to the bed. Naked, he slipped under the covers and lay on his side facing Buffy, his head propped up with his hand. "Find anything new?" he asked, only half sarcastic.

Buffy had been re-reading Michael's book on and off all summer. Unfortunately, the actual written pages were rather sparse. The rest of the slim volume was taken up with sketches, the first of which bore a freaky-strong resemblance to Buffy. The caption underneath that picture identified it as Michael's Guiding Spirit. The rest of the sketches weren't nearly as detailed; drawn from someone's description rather than actual experience. And not all of them included captions.

One of them was a circle with some kind of pentagram and a goat's head in the middle. On another page was an image of three men dressed in exotic clothes and carrying staffs. Then there was something that looked kind of like a stylized battle axe, though written underneath it was the word "scythe." There were other drawings as well, each more cryptic than the last. It was all so frustrating, because Buffy knew these pictures had to be important, yet she had no idea what any of it meant. Buffy was sure at least some of it had to do with the new Big Bad whose arrival they were anticipating. Buffy just wished she could remember the dreams she had regarding this mysterious enemy, but they were all a fog, as if something didn't want her to know too much.

She slammed the book shut and dropped it on her nightstand with an aggravated huff. "It's driving me crazy," she groused, "All it does is leave me with more questions."

Spike nuzzled the side of her neck, sent her soothing thoughts through the link. "We'll figure 'em out when we need to, luv. Right now," he ground himself against her thigh, "there's more pressin' matters that need seeing to."

A smile tugged at Buffy's lips. "Well, you did tag along on Dawn's 'field trip,' and didn't complain once about how dull it was. Out loud, anyway," she conceded, turning her head to lightly rub her nose against his, "I think that kind of restraint deserves something."

"Bloody right, it does." Spike tugged her nightgown off without further preamble and rolled on top of her. Buffy laughed, her concerns about Dawn, the high school, and Michael's book pushed aside for the time being.

* * *

"Dawn," Buffy yelled upstairs, "Xander's here! You're gonna be late!"

"I'm comfortable with that," Dawn's faint voice retorted just as Xander entered the house.

"Well, you gotta eat something," Buffy countered, "I made cereal."

"Morning!" Xander greeted. He was looking unusually sharp, dressed in a business suit rather than the usual work clothes.

Buffy smiled and led him into the kitchen. Spike was leaning against the counter, drinking from a coffee mug. It might've been coffee he was actually drinking, or it could have been pig's blood. Xander didn't really care to find out.

The vampire quirked a scarred eyebrow at the carpenter's appearance. "What's with the threads, Harris?"

"Client meeting," Xander explained briefly. He asked Buffy, "How exactly do you 'make' cereal?"

"Put the box near the milk," she shrugged.

"She saw it on the Food Channel," Spike quipped.

Xander noted Buffy's nervous fiddling with the breakfast items. "So, how are you?"

"My sister's about to go to the same high school that tried to kill me for three years," she replied, "I can't change districts, I can't afford private school, and I can't begin to prepare for what could possibly come out of there. So, peachy with a side of keen. That would be me." She grabbed herself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp. Xander debated asking if she really needed the caffeine.

"Well, here's a little something for what ails ya," he said instead, holding up a roll of blueprints, "Take a look. I've got two crews working on this diabolical, yet lucrative, new campus."

Buffy and Spike followed him to the dinette table where he unrolled the plans for their perusal. "One crew's here," he pointed, "finishing the science building, and one here, reinforcing the gym. There are no pentagrams, no secret passageways, everything's up to code and safe as houses."

"Nothing creepy?" Buffy insisted, "Strange? From beyond?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Maybe we're just paranoid?"

Dawn entered the kitchen, got herself a bowl of cereal, and joined them at the table. She gazed curiously at the plans while she munched her breakfast.

"Well, there is one interesting detail," Xander unrolled a second set of blueprints, "I managed to scare up the plans of the old high school. You remember the center of Sunnydale's own Hellmouth?"

Buffy nodded, "Under the library."

"Right. So, I lined up the plans, new and old, and right exactly where the library was, we now have..."

Buffy squinted at the writing. "Principal's office."

"So, the principal's evil?" Dawn asked.

"Or in a boatload of danger," Buffy added.

"Well, the last two principals were eaten," Xander muttered, "Who'd even apply for that job?"

"Guess we'll see," Buffy sighed, checked the time on Xander's watch, "Oh, we have to leave, though." She turned to Dawn, "D'you have everything? Books? Lunch? Stakes?"

The girl nodded. "Check thrice."

Spike made an inquiring gesture with his free hand. "Did you give her the..."

"No, I was saving it." Buffy retrieved a box from a drawer and brought it to Dawn. The box was giftwrapped.

Dawn perked up at the sight of it. "What is it?"

"Back to school gift," Buffy said, handing it to her.

The teen grinned. "It's a weapon, isn't it?"

Buffy shared a secretive smile with Spike. "Yes. It is."

Dawn eagerly tore away the wrapping paper and opened the box. Her face lit up at the brand new cellphone she found inside.

* * *

Buffy knew she was being overprotective and paranoidy, but she couldn't help it. Just the thought of her baby sister at the mercy of the things she herself had gone up against in high school brought out the crazy mom in her, which was as mortifying for her as it was for Dawn. It didn't help when Principal Wood referred to Dawn as her daughter. Like she really looked old enough to be the mother of a teenager! Dawn was more than eager to get to class after that.

Even after the halls emptied of students, Buffy wandered around looking for anything remotely suspicious. Eventually, she entered the ladies' room, where she checked herself in the mirror. "I don't have mom hair," she muttered, fussing with the messy bun.

As she was reaching for the faucet, she noticed what looked like a small bundle of twigs and hair tied together with white thread. Curious, she picked it up. Then she saw something horrific in the mirror.

"You can't protect her," the rotting ghost-girl snarled, "You couldn't protect me."

Buffy spun around, but found herself alone in the restroom. Then another zombie-ghost, this time a balding man, suddenly lunged at her right screaming, "Get out! Get out!"

Buffy dropped the bundle of twigs in her haste to get away from the creature, and the bald-ghost vanished just like the girl-ghost had.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, voice unsteady, "Definite badness here."

She immediately left the restroom and dashed over to Dawn's classroom, crashing through the door and startling everyone in the room. Dawn was standing up, apparently giving the obligatory introduction.

"Dawn!"

"What?" Dawn's face flushed at the embarrassing intrusion.

"We have to go. It's not safe," Buffy said in a rush, "We, um... I mean, I saw..." It began to occur to her that his might not have been the best idea.

The teacher eyed her warily. "Can I help you?"

"No. I, uh... Dawn, I-I just thought you were in danger...of smoking," she winced at her lame excuse, "I'll be around." And with that, she left the classroom and her humiliated sister behind. She decided she needed to tell Xander about this and made her way to the science building where he was overseeing the construction crew. Along the way she felt Spike query her through the link; he'd sensed her fear and wanted to know if she needed help. Buffy sent back a no, but let him feel her reservations so he would be ready to come at a second's notice.

She found Xander easily enough and filled him in on the zombie-ghost incident.

"So, school's back in session, huh?" her friend stated wryly.

Buffy snorted, "Yeah. Seems like old times. This isn't a coincidence, y'know. The school being rebuilt. It means something."

"As in what?" Xander asked.

She wished to hell she knew.

Having given Xander the heads-up, Buffy went back inside with the intent of returning to the haunted restroom, only to bump into Principal Wood. "Oh! Sorry."

"Miss Summers," the principal arched an elegant eyebrow, "I didn't know you were still about."

Buffy had to admit, Wood was a definite improvement over the last two principals, appearance-wise, anyway. Sadly, this only flustered her even more. "Uh, yeah, I was just looking for..."

"You know, I, um, have to be honest," Principal Wood looked a little embarrassed, "I actually know a little bit more about you than I let on before."

Buffy felt an inkling of suspicion. "Isn't that interesting."

"Oh, it really is. The school board recommended I spend a little time reading your record. It's, uh, quite a page turner," he grinned, "Kind of a checkered past."

"More like a plaid," Buffy joked, trying desperately to think up an excuse to get away from this conversation.

"It's clear your sister looks up to you, which I think is great—"

Buffy immediately pounced on that opening, "No, she's much, _much_ worse than me. Troublemaker. Expulsion is really the only way to go. Or you could suspend her for, like, three years."

Principal Wood chuckled, "Well, how about we give her a chance first? As long as she keeps her grades up—"

A piercing ringtone emitted from Buffy's pocket. "Boy, that's loud," she let out an awkward laugh.

"That's part of why we don't allow cellphones," the principal explained.

"'Scuse me." Buffy dug out her phone and answered it, "Yeah? Uh, sorry. My dog...dog walker," she told Wood, then turned her attention back to the phone, "Three dead? Uh, no, I-I'll be right there."

The Principal's eyebrows rose in concern. "Oh, my god. Your dogs are dead?"

Buffy hung up and shoved the phone back in her pocket. "Sorry about that. Um, I...I have to..." She started down the hall.

"Yeah, no, of course," Wood called after her, "And good luck with that...dog tragedy."

Buffy sent a mental call through the link and felt Spike's acknowledgment. In a few minutes, he would reach the high school by way of the sewers and vampire speed.

Buffy entered the haunted restroom and found the gaping hole which Dawn and the other girl had fallen through. After a moment's pause to check for any immediate danger, she leapt down into the darkened basement level. The place was like a maze, so full of twists and turns that she soon found herself totally lost.

"Dawn!"

"Too late," a voice rasped, "But then, you're always too late, aren't you? Sure as hell didn't save me."

A bald zombie-ghost stepped into view.

"Where's my sister?" Buffy demanded.

The zombie-ghost smirked. "I think she's lost."

"I'm the one who let you die. Why take it out on her? What're you after? Fear? Revenge? Tasty brains?"

A second, younger zombie-ghost arrived. "I think I'd like Dawn to be my girlfriend."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Again, wrong sister. I'm the one that dates dead guys. And no offense, but they were hotties."

"Busy making out with your dead boyfriend while I was being ripped to death by a werewolf?" a girl zombie-ghost snarled, "Is that why you let me die?"

"Look," Buffy snapped, "I don't care how you died. I'm sorry for your loss, but where is my sister? Dawn!"

"She's not gonna hear you," the first zombie-ghost told her, his rotting features smug, "All we want is for you to leave, so we can rest again."

"Actually," Buffy noted, "I'm thinking all you want is to get between me and that door." She pointed behind the three creatures. "Who's for finding out why?"

They lunged at her. They were strong, but she fought them off. But then some weird reset thing happened and she found them standing in front of her again, blocking her path. She shrugged, "If at first you don't succeed..."

She knocked them all aside without warning and flung open the door. "Dawnie! We have to get out—"

The person she discovered on the other side wasn't her sister. It was Spike.

"Geez, how fast did you run?" Buffy exclaimed.

The peroxide blonde smirked. "Duck."

Buffy frowned, her mind a bit too addled by the adrenaline to catch on. "There's a duck?"

Spike quickly shoved her aside just in time to avoid the pipe one of the zombie-ghosts swung at her head. Spike punched the creature out and snatched the pipe from its hands. Then he pulled Buffy through the door, slammed it shut and secured it before the zombie-ghosts could follow.

"Probably show up in a sec," Buffy muttered.

Spike's shoulders twitched in discomfort. "Somethin' tells me they won't. Feel that? Sort of a weird vibe."

Now that he mentioned it, she felt it too. But for the moment, she had other worries. "Have you seen Dawn? She came down here with some kids."

The vampire shook his head. His eyes were darting around, his anxiety singing through the link. He really didn't like this place.

Buffy's cellphone rang. She was quick to answer it, "Dawn?"

_"Buffy, where are you?"_

"Not sure," she sighed, "Where are you?"

_"I-I don't know. In a room by the furnace. Near where we fell in,"_ the girl explained, _"They dragged us in here and then disappeared."_

"Yeah, they came after me, too."

_"What do they want?"_

"So far, to piss me off," Buffy grumbled.

_"Please tell me it's working,"_ Dawn begged.

"Oh, I'm damage-bound," Buffy assured her, "I just can't figure them. Ghosts can't touch you and zombies can't disappear." She felt a mental equivalent to a tap on the shoulder. "Hold on," she put her hand over the receiver, turned to Spike, "You know what they are?"

"Pretty sure they're manifest spirits controlled by a talisman," the vampire replied, "They're usually raised to seek vengeance."

_"Was that Spike?"_ Dawn's voice was hopeful.

"Yeah," Buffy spoke into the phone, "He's here. Hang tight. We'll find you. These things can hurt you, but you can hurt them, too. Find a weapon."

_"Okay."_

Buffy ended the call, then quickly dialed Xander's cell number. "Xander, I need you to do something. Go into the girls restroom and find something that looks like a bundle of sticks and stuff tied together. I think it's a talisman controlling these zombie-ghost things. Careful, there's a big hole in the floor." She hung up, pocketed the phone, then turned to Spike. "Ready?"

Spike grinned and hefted the metal pipe he'd acquired. "You know me, luv. Always ready for a little rough-and-tumble."

It didn't take long to find them; all they had to do was follow the screams. They came to a locked door, which Buffy promptly kicked open. She and Spike rushed in and started fighting off the zombie-ghosts.

"We just need to keep 'em at bay!" Buffy reminded Spike. Dawn tossed her a school bag full of bricks, and she wielded the makeshift weapon like a flail. Spike, meanwhile, made use of the pipe in his hands, bashing undead skulls left and right.

"You really wanna keep this up?" the vampire challenged.

The zombie-ghost in front of him smirked. "What're you gonna do? Kill us?"

A moment later, they all disappeared in clouds of noxious yellow smoke.

"Talisman must've been destroyed," Buffy observed.

"How'd you know it was a talisman?" Dawn asked.

Buffy put on her best wise Slayer look. "There's always a talisman."

She felt more than saw Spike's amused eye-roll.

"The real question is, who put it there?"

Spike tossed his pipe aside with a noisy clang. "Guess I'll be off, since the fun's over." He was eager to leave this labyrinth of a basement. Its freaky vibes were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Buffy walked over and embraced him. "Thanks for coming." She kissed him briefly, then led the teens back to the relative safety of the school while Spike headed back through the sewers.

"Who was that guy?" the girl, Kit, whispered to Dawn.

The teen smiled. "Buffy's boyfriend."

"Why isn't he coming with us?"

"He's...kind of a night person," Dawn explained vaguely, "Doesn't like the sunlight too much."

The girl snorted, "What, like a vampire?"

"Yeah, heh," Dawn laughed awkwardly.

Back above ground, Dawn and her classmates thanked Buffy and returned to their classes, for once grateful for their normal, boring educations.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Buffy turned to find Principal Wood once again standing before her. "What is?"

He pointed at the departing teens. "Those were possibly the only two students in the school whose files are as thick as yours was. Now I see you got them socializing and hugging and actually, if I'm not mistaken, headed _to_ class."

Buffy smiled. "Well, we shared an...encounter."

"Look, I know you're probably more than happy to get out of this place," Wood spoke sincerely, "but I gotta tell ya, Miss Summers, I think you belong here."

"Hmm, whuh?" she blurted.

The principal continued, "Listen, I know this school's reputation. We got a lot of troubled students in, and just enough money to keep this place from caving in."

Buffy snorted, "Yeah, you might need a little extra, there."

"Well, we do have a community outreach program, and the money we could pay you wouldn't even fold, but it would just be a couple of days a week."

Buffy blinked as her brain tried to catch up. "Are you asking me to be a counselor?"

"Well," Wood shrugged, "I was thinking the kids could use someone, you know, closer to their age, who's still—"

"I'm in."

* * *

"So," Spike drawled that evening as they readied for patrol, "you took a job at the one place you wanted to keep as far away from as possible."

"It'll give me a chance to catch any suspicious Hellmouthy activity at the source," Buffy explained, "I can also keep an eye on Dawn, while I'm at it."

"And you won't be flippin' burgers," Spike added helpfully.

"Yes!" she gushed, "It'll be such a nice change, coming home without having to scrape the grease off me every night."

Spike chuckled. They left the house, headed for the first cemetery of the night. The link hummed between them, sharing their contentment and anticipation of a night of fighting ahead of them.


	3. Chapter 3: Beneath You

**A/N: **Lovin' the response so far. Glad you guys seem to be enjoying this sequel. :-) Here's another chappie. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_You know some real bad tricks_

_And you need some discipline_

_But lately you've been trying real hard_

_And giving me your best_

_And you give me the most gorgeous sleep_

_That I've ever had_

_And when it's really bad_

_I guess it's not that bad_

-No Doubt, "Underneath It All"

Buffy tossed and turned in bed, while in her dream a girl with hair dyed bright pink ran for her life. The girl was being chased by a pair of robed men. They ran through nighttime Frankfurt, Germany (Buffy didn't know how she knew this detail) until the robed men cornered the girl just outside an underground nightclub. She tried to fight them off, but they were too strong. Then one of the men plunged an ornate dagger into her torso. They left her where she lay, alone and dying. With her final breath, the girl spoke in an unearthly voice, **"From beneath you...it devours."**

"Buffy! Buffy!"

She gasped awake, saw Spike's worried face looming over her, his hands gripping her shoulders. Buffy licked her dry lips and rasped, "I heard screaming."

Spike replied with a faint smile, "That was you, luv."

He moved back so that she could sit up. Buffy hugged her knees. "There was a girl."

"That would be me," Dawn spoke from the doorway, drawn there by the sounds of her sister's distress.

Buffy shook her head. "Uh...no, it was..."

"Just a dream," Spike said, though he wasn't entirely convinced.

"It was just a dream, right?" Dawn asked, hopeful.

"'From beneath you, it devours.' That's what she said. And then they..." Buffy rose from the bed and wandered over to the window, pulled aside the curtains to peer out at the night-shrouded streets. "There's more like her," she murmured, "out there, somewhere. And they're gonna die."

Spike reached for his discarded jeans on the floor and slipped them on without Dawn seeing anything the teen shouldn't, then he went to stand behind Buffy and put his arms around her. "There's nothing you can do now," he whispered into the side of her neck, "Come back to bed, luv. You need to rest."

Buffy sighed, knowing he was right. Whatever the dream meant, she couldn't do anything about it until she understood more. And she had a big day tomorrow, starting her new job as a school counselor. She turned to her sister, still hovering in the doorway. "I'm okay, Dawnie. Go on back to bed."

With a nod, the teen reluctantly returned to her room. Buffy let the vampire lead her back to their bed and snuggled up to him under the covers. "Something's coming," she murmured.

Spike ran his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture. "I know. I feel it, too."

Buffy shuddered. She honestly didn't think she would be able to sleep anymore, but after a few minutes of Spike gently stroking her hair, her eyelids grew heavy and she finally drifted off. Fortunately for her, there were no more dreams that night.

* * *

Morning was somewhat better. Bright daylight chased away the shadows and Dawn spent the entire ride in Xander's car enthusing over the fact that her sister would be working at her school. She gushed about how cool it was, then made it clear that Buffy was not to acknowledge or socialize with her or her friends in any way, as that would humiliate the teen and destroy her social life. Buffy laughingly agreed to these terms.

It was weirdly thrilling having her very own cubicle and desk. Made her feel like a real grownup at last. Principal Wood even gave her the power to give detention, should she find it necessary. Buffy was anxious to do well, but also confused as to why a college drop-out like her was given the job in the first place. The principal's explanation didn't really help her. "These students need someone around who understands them. I need someone who understands these students."

Right.

Buffy spent part of her day exploring more of the new campus. She returned to the basement, wondering if she'd feel that strange vibe Spike had mentioned without the vampire present. She did feel something, but it was hard to describe. Sort of a low buzz that was felt more than heard. It made her skin tingle and her bones vibrate. It was very unnerving, and she highly doubted it meant anything good. It had to be connected to the Hellmouth somehow, though she didn't remember this sensation from her days as a student. Was the Hellmouth becoming more active?

The rest of Buffy's day was fairly uneventful. She talked to a few students that Principal Wood sent her way. Buffy wasn't sure if she was doing any good, but at least she hadn't screwed up royally, either. So, that was something.

The evening, however, was not so uneventful. Xander arrived at the house shortly after sunset accompanied by a very shaken young woman named Nancy, who proceeded to tell them an interesting story involving her unfortunate Yorkie and a huge worm-like creature that burst out of the ground and swallowed the pooch whole. It nearly dragged Nancy after it before she thought to let go of the dog's leash. Her palm was scraped raw, so Buffy got out the first aid kit and wrapped her hand.

"And whatever it was, it was _big,_" the woman said in a tremulous voice, "And strong. Stronger than... I mean, I don't know how it's possible. You hear things in this town, living here in Sunnydale, but nobody actually believes them, y'know? You'd have to be crazy, and—and you guys think that I'm crazy, don't you?" She eyed them all warily.

Xander was sitting beside her on the couch, Dawn on her other side, while Buffy sat on the coffee table to tend to Nancy's minor wounds. Spike leaned in the living room doorway, his arms crossed. He was wearing a dark blue, skin-tight shirt Buffy had recently bought him, and she found the sight of him distractingly yummy. He'd filled out some over the summer. Xander joked that Spike needed to lay off the junkfood, but vampires couldn't really digest ordinary food; it just went right through them. No, it was a different aspect of Spike's diet that had recently changed. Ever since the Claim, he had been drinking regularly from Buffy, usually while they were making love, and never more than a few ounces at a time. But apparently a steady diet of high-octane Slayer blood made quite the difference. Buffy certainly appreciated the results.

Spike smirked at the less-than-pure feelings he picked up through the link. Then Xander responded to what Nancy had said and his and Buffy's attention returned to the matter at hand. "We don't think you're crazy."

"We've seen things, too, Nancy," Buffy assured her.

"And we're gonna take care of this," Xander promised, "It's your lucky night. Considering, y'know, your dog just got all ate up and stuff..." He coughed awkwardly at the look Nancy gave him. "Hey, can I freshen your tea?"

"No," Nancy stared at him as if he'd grown a third eye, "That's okay. Thanks."

Spike smirked. _Real smooth, Harris._

"So, you say this thing just came up out of the ground?" Dawn asked, "I mean, without any warning signs or anything?"

Nancy shook her head. "Just this kind of rumbling, you know, like just before an earthquake."

The words brought on a deep sense of foreboding in Buffy. "From beneath you, it devours."

Dawn and Spike tensed.

Nancy frowned in puzzlement. "What?"

"Nothing," Buffy replied, trying to sound casual.

"Nothing good," Dawn muttered.

"It's sounding 'monsterific,' all right," Xander said, ignorant of Buffy's dream.

Buffy used her businesslike tone, "Look, Nancy, we're gonna get into this. And I promise you, if your dog is alive, we're gonna find him." She got up and put on her jacket. "Okay, we're gonna split. Two pairs. Whatever this creature is, it's burrowing through solid ground. That means a strength and power that we don't usually deal with, but we may have to get used to, now the Hellmouth's getting all perky."

Nancy leaned closer to Xander and half-whispered, "Shouldn't we call the police, or something?"

Xander quirked an eyebrow. "And tell them...?"

The woman smiled ruefully. "I'll stop interrupting."

"Xander, take Nancy home," Buffy ordered while she dug through her weapons chest, "Drive, don't walk, and try not to stop 'til you get there."

"Is your girlfriend always this...commanding?" Nancy asked.

Xander frowned, confused. "Who?" His eyes widened as her meaning dawned on him. "_Buffy?_ Oh, no, no, no. See, uh—I mean, she's—she's a _girl_, and she's a _friend_, but she's not my girlfriend." He pointed towards Spike, who was selecting a weapon of his own from the trunk. "She's actually seeing Captain Peroxide over there."

"Oh," Nancy nodded sagely, "Likes the whole bad-boy thing, huh?"

The vampire flashed a wicked grin.

"Spike and I will check out the scene," Buffy declared, heading for the door.

"I'm command central," Dawn stated with full authority, "so everybody check in with me." Her shoulders slumped a moment later and she muttered, "Okay, I'll be here doing my homework, but the other one sounded cooler."

"Righty-o, then." Spike followed after the others, lightly bumping Dawn's shoulder in passing. The teen smiled, then sighed and went to fetch her schoolbag.

* * *

It didn't take long to find the place Nancy had described. Spike played his flashlight beam over the ring of broken concrete circling a dark crater that was wide enough for a grown man to fall through. "Think this here's our spot."

"How'd you guess?" Buffy asked drily.

Spike huffed a quiet chuckle, then knelt down to peer cautiously into the hole. "I don't fancy sticking my head in that."

"Well," Buffy said lightly, "if something bites it off, that'd be a clue."

Spike threw her a mock-glare, then held his arm out to her. "Hold the torch, will you?"

Buffy took it and held it up. "Flashlight," she enunciated, "Here we call it a flashlight. Torches are all flamey."

Spike rolled his eyes. He carefully moved some of the rubble aside and looked down into the gaping maw. After a moment, he sighed and stood up, dusting off the knees of his jeans. "There's nothin' here. Just a bit of slime. Mounds of displaced dirt and such. Whatever our beastie is, he's gone." He looked at Buffy. "What d'you think? This the Big Bad your dream was talkin' about?"

Buffy pursed her lips in thought. "No," she shook her head, "Doesn't feel right. Whatever this thing is, it's obviously dangerous, but not Big Bad dangerous."

"Hmm." Spike nodded in agreement.

Buffy's cellphone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and answered. It was Xander. He and Nancy had been attacked by the worm thing, which seemed to have a personal vendetta against the woman. It turned out, Nancy had a psycho ex-boyfriend that she'd wished to be rid of; the operative word being "wish."

They all met up at The Bronze a few minutes later and found Anya sitting at a table with a young woman who was talking animatedly to the vengeance demon. As soon as she saw them approach, Anya rolled her eyes and groaned, "Oh, penis."

"This the one you talked to?" Xander asked Nancy, who nodded.

Anya sighed, then flashed a bright smile at her companion. "Tell you what, why don't we put a pin in it? Why don't you go get yourself a drink, and we'll pick it up in a few, okay?" Once the bewildered woman was gone, Anya glared at the interlopers. "You guys, I'm working here."

"We noticed." Buffy set a short sword down on the table, a not-so-subtle threat.

"Did you turn this nice lady's ex into a giant worm monster?" Xander asked in his typical blunt way.

Anya laughed, then had the grace to look a little chastised. "Yes."

Nancy gawped. "No way! Are you saying that thing was Ronnie?"

"You wish it, I dish it," Anya shrugged, "I thought we were clear on this. I didn't think you were gonna go all narc on me."

Buffy looked at the woman in disbelief. "You wished your ex was a worm?"

"We were just talking!"

"Anya has a way of making things happen," Xander explained.

"I had a quota," the vengeance demon stated, "The guy had it coming. What's the big?"

Nancy paled. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Anya," Buffy snapped, "that thing you created burst through solid pavement and ate her dog."

Anya's expression fell. "Oh! Puppy!"

"Wait, _that_ gets your sad noise?" Xander exclaimed, "People's lives are in danger and you give it up for the Yorkie?"

"You never understood me, Xander," the currently brunette woman huffed.

"Xander, who is this woman?" Nancy asked.

Xander winced. "Anya. She's, um...my ex."

Nancy's eyebrows rose in a this-explains-a-lot expression. "Oh."

Anya scowled. "Hey, nobody's bragging here." She started to get up, but Spike reached over and shoved her back into her chair. "Hey! Hands off the merchandise, Spike! You don't get to go there again."

The vampire scoffed, "Please. _You_ threw yourself at _me_, remember?"

"Okay, guys," Buffy interjected, "Can we focus here for just a second? Anya, this Ronnie? He wasn't a worm. Worms are, like, this big," she held up her finger and thumb, indicating a couple of inches between them, "This thing was, like—"

"Sluggoth demon," Spike's scarred eyebrow quirked at the vengeance demon, "Am I right?"

Anya sulked. "Maybe."

"Wait, I-I didn't wish for that," Nancy protested, "I mean, I don't even know what this whatchamacallit demon thing is."

"Sluggoth demon. It's a very large, very nasty natural predator who died around the Crusades," Spike explained.

"Same phylum," Anya muttered, "It's not cheating, I just embellished."

"Well, you can unembellish, now," Xander said.

His ex glared at him. "Bite me, Harris. I have rules to work with. Vengeance demon codes of conduct. But you'll never understand, 'cause you're all still so...human," Anya's voice trailed off as she began to stare at them all, frowning as her eyes came to rest on the vampire.

"I'm not," Spike said, "Demon, just like yourself, Anya. Now, you're gonna turn the spell around like a good little vengeance demon, or I—What?" he broke off, irritated by the brunette's gawking.

Anya's eyes widened. "Oh, my god."

"What're you staring at?" Spike growled.

"Oh, my god!" Anya said even louder. Her eyes roved over him in shock. "How did you do it?"

"Spike, what's she talking about?" Buffy asked.

"I don't have a sodding clue." Spike glared at the excited vengeance demon.

"I can see you!" she cried, "I-I can see her in you!"

"What the hell are you—"

"Her soul! Buffy's soul is in you!" Anya shook her head in astonishment, then turned her gaze on Buffy and, if anything, gaped even more. "A-And your demon's in her! You both have the same soul and the same demon at the same time! Holy crap, that's so _weird!_"

Spike's and Buffy's eyes met, their shock bouncing back and forth through the empathic link they shared. They knew the Claim had brought about some changes, but they had no idea it was this extreme. What did this mean? Was Buffy still human? Was Spike still a vampire?

"Uh, Buffy."

"Not now, Xander," Buffy responded absently.

But her friend persisted, "Nancy. Anya's hissy fit over souls freaked her out. She's gone, and out there all alone, she's worm bait."

Jarred back into reality, Buffy pushed this new revelation to the back of her mind to deal with the current situation. "Spike and I will find her. You stay here with Anya and get her to reverse that spell."

Xander nodded. Buffy and Spike hurried for the exit, weapons in hand.

They found Nancy easily enough. The screams for help were something of a giveaway. Buffy swooped in and rescued Nancy from imminent worm-devouring while Spike fought the creature off. Then, just as the vampire brought his sword in for a fatal stab, the Sluggoth suddenly morphed into a pudgy naked man. It happened so fast that even Spike's enhanced reflexes didn't have a chance to react. His sword penetrated the man's right shoulder and they both screamed in pain, Ronnie from his impalement, and Spike from his chip firing. Once the flare of agony faded, Spike stared at the wounded man with an expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to horror.

Buffy rushed over and knelt at Ronnie's side. Luckily, the poor guy had passed out, so she didn't have to deal with any screaming or flailing limbs. She pressed a blanket she'd retrieved from a dumpster to the man's bleeding wound. "He's going into shock," she muttered, pulling out her cellphone and dialing 9-1-1.

"I-I'm sorry," Spike backed away.

Buffy urgently spoke into the phone while keeping pressure on the man's wound. Nancy hesitantly joined them just as Xander and Anya came running. Nancy stared at the brunette woman with revulsion. "You. You did this. What are you?"

She didn't wait for a response, only walked away without a backward glance.

Xander gazed at the woman's retreating back and heaved a rueful sigh. "She's not calling me, right?"

Buffy fought against the overwhelming guilt as she instructed the operator on where to send the ambulance. She didn't know why she felt so horrible about this. It wasn't like _she—_

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, staring straight at the vampire backing anxiously away.

"I'm sorry," Spike said again. He dropped his sword and ran, vanishing into the night.

Buffy quickly handed Xander her phone. "Help is on the way."

Before her friend could protest, she hurried after the vampire. She didn't see him, but their connection helped her find where he'd run off to. There was a cemetery close by, and a small church. Buffy saw the wavering glow of candlelight in the windows. She entered the church, saw the flickering votive candles, and found Spike hunched over in one of the pews. She sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What is this?" Spike's voice cracked. He was scared and confused. His hand rubbed his chest, fingers curling as if to claw through his shirt. "What...What _is_ this?"

Buffy swallowed. In the months since they made the Claim, neither one of them had done anything to bring this particular emotion on. So it was no wonder Spike had no idea what he was feeling now.

"It's guilt," she told him.

A tremor ran through him. He looked at her with wide, pain-filled eyes, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's...How do you...God, it _hurts_."

He didn't know how to cope. It was overwhelming him. He was beginning to spiral out of control, the guilt compelling him to dredge up the memories of past sins. Buffy knew she had to stop this now, before he drove himself off the deep end. She took his face in her hands and made him stare into her eyes. "Spike, what happened back there was just an accident. You don't have anything to feel bad about," she pushed her emotions through the link, made him feel her certainty, "Look at me. That guy's gonna be fine. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Right...wrong," Spike muttered the words that, until now, had always meant nothing to him. He took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his mussed curls, "Bloody hell." He was calmer now, thanks to Buffy's steadying presence. And the link. Spike had a feeling he'd be in much worse shape if it weren't for Buffy's steadying emotions.

"You're okay." It wasn't a question, but he nodded all the same. Buffy pressed a kiss to his forehead and withdrew her hands. "Looks like Anya was right. We're sharing a soul."

Spike reached over and touched the Claim mark on Buffy's neck. "What else is this doing to us?"

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged, troubled and intrigued at the same time. If she had Spike's demon in her, did that make her part vampire now? Would she grow fangs? Have sudden cravings for blood? She hadn't so far.

Spike's eyes wandered towards the church's altar. He rose from his seat and slowly approached the large cross that rested at the altar. Buffy joined him, the same question running through her mind. Slowly, Spike reached out and touched the cross with his fingertips. After a moment there was the familiar burn and he jerked his hand away, inspecting his reddened fingers. "Guess some things are still the same."

Buffy frowned. "I dunno. Didn't that seem to take a little longer to hurt you?"

The vampire's brow furrowed in thought. "Yeah...I think so. Didn't hurt as much, either."

Curious, Buffy rested her hand against the cross for a moment. Nothing. "Well, I'm still human. Ish," she smiled wryly.

"What's this mean?" Spike wondered.

Buffy shook her head, at a loss. "Whatever this is...it doesn't feel like a bad thing. I mean, aside from your whole guilt-trip." She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I think this is making us a part of each other."

"This'll either make us weaker or stronger," Spike said.

"Which do you think it is?" Buffy asked.

The vampire thought about it, then twined their fingers together. "Stronger."

"Stronger," the Slayer agreed.


	4. Chapter 4: Same Time, Same Place

**A/N:** I'm trying to get through these first few episodes quickly so I can get down to the good stuff with The First. That said, I rather liked "Same Time, Same Place." Gnarl was an especially funky demon, or so I thought. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I'm here, I'm not here._

_There's nothing that I know for sure._

_You're here, you're not here._

_How long can this all go on for?_

_Oh, I don't know._

-Julia Stone, "I'm Here, I'm Not Here"

Buffy, Dawn, and Xander waited anxiously at the airport terminal. A couple of days ago Giles called to tell them that Willow had experienced some frightening visions about the Hellmouth. And she wasn't alone; other witches in the coven she and Tara were training with felt something as well. Evil was rising. So, it was decided to cut Willow's training short and she and Tara would return to Sunnydale, where they would doubtless be needed very soon.

Spike was out on patrol. It was an arrangement he and Buffy came up with; once a week, they'd each take a night off from the slayage. It worked out well for them, gave them some much-needed rest and time to get other things done. Plus, if the one on patrol needed help, the other was just a thought away.

Buffy smiled. So far, sharing a soul hadn't really changed Spike's personality. He still loved beating the crap out of demons. She could sense his elation now. He must've been in one hell of a scrap at that moment.

"You guys, I just noticed something," Xander's voice cut through her reverie.

"What?" Dawn asked.

"Everyone's off the plane, so...where's Willow and Tara?"

He was right. The gate was closing, yet there was no sign of the two witches. They searched all over the airport, but found no sign of them. Finally, they came to the unhappy conclusion that Tara and Willow weren't there. They piled into Xander's car and headed for home. Buffy used her cellphone to call Giles and ask if he knew what was going on.

"He absolutely put them on the plane in London," Buffy said as they entered the house.

"So, they got off at Chicago when they stopped?" Xander wondered.

"Why would they do that?" Dawn asked.

Buffy pursed her lips. "Giles said Willow was nervous about her powers. Apparently she's stronger than even the coven expected. Giles said she doesn't just use the magic; she's _part_ of it somehow. And she's afraid she might lose control of herself if she uses it."

Dawn sighed, "We should check the messages, see if they tried to reach us here."

A sudden noise drew their attention to the second floor. They all went upstairs to investigate, but didn't find anything unusual, although Buffy did find her address book on the floor. Apparently, it had fallen off her dresser. There was no sign of the witches, and no messages had been left by them. Buffy even checked with Giles again to see if he'd heard anything. Unfortunately, the answer was no.

"Is he throwing a tasteful British wiggins?" Xander asked as they all sat on the couch.

"Oh, with extra wig," Buffy sighed, "He's blaming himself pretty hard. Like he should've known Willow wasn't ready to come back."

Spike came home from patrol a few minutes later. His expression was concerned when he came through the door. "What's wrong?"

Buffy filled him in. Spike was sympathetic. He liked Tara and Willow.

There was nothing more they could do right then. Hopefully, either Giles or the coven would hear from the AWOL witches, or they'd show up on their own, perhaps with a fun story of how they got their planes mixed up.

Buffy woke early the next morning to the sound of her cellphone ringing. She answered it, thinking it might be Willow or Tara, but it was Xander whose voice greeted her. And he did not sound happy.

_"Buffy, I need you to come by the site. I found...something."_

Buffy glanced at the still-slumbering vampire beside her and sighed. "I'll be there in a little while."

She took a quick shower, threw on some clothes, kissed Spike goodbye, even though he still hadn't stirred, then walked down to the construction site at the high school. There was no sign of any work crew when she arrived. Just a grim-faced Xander who led her down to where his grisly discovery lay.

Buffy grimaced at the sight of the corpse lying a short distance from some fresh graffiti. A can of spray paint lay close to the body's outstretched hand. Buffy assumed the victim had been male, judging by the shredded clothes. Hard to say for sure, since there were zero defining characteristics. Such as a face.

"No skin," she remarked, stating the gruesomely obvious.

Xander nodded, swallowing bile. "Tough to look at."

"And yet my eyes refuse to look away," Buffy muttered, "Stupid eyes."

"I found it first thing this morning. Gave my crew the day off and called you right away."

Buffy sighed ruefully, "I gotta get a job where I don't get called right away for this stuff."

Xander turned his head at the sound of the nearby ladder rattling, but saw no one, so he shrugged it off and told himself it was just the wind.

While Xander called the police, Buffy returned home to start the research. By the time Xander arrived, having endured a couple of hours of questions, Dawn was on the computer, scouring the Internet. It turned out the 'Net was chock full of databases focusing on various demons and the occult. Some of them were even legit.

Spike was in the living room, watching the latest episode of "Passions." His way of helping with the research was to stay out of the way and keep quiet. It was best for everyone that way.

"Okay," Dawn announced, all business, "So, I looked up demons that skin their victims and demons that flay their victims. 'Cause, y'know, same thing. There's a ton of prospects. Anything else gone? Uh, eyeballs, toenails, or viscera? That's guts."

"She knows about viscera," Spike declared, eyes glued to the TV screen, "Makes you proud."

"Just skin," Xander told the girl.

"Okay." Dawn's fingers flew over the keys for a moment, then her eyes lit up and she straightened in her seat. "Oh! Guys, I got a good one. A demon called Gnarl. He's a parasite with these nasty long fingernails. He secretes something through them and uses that to paralyze his victims. He then cuts strips of their skin while they're still alive. It takes hours."

"We didn't find any strips of skin," Xander said, "Which, by the way, _geeuh!_" He shuddered.

"You wouldn't," Dawn answered matter-of-factly, "He eats them."

Xander looked even greener at this information.

"Dawn," Buffy said gently, "you're new at this, a-and I get why you're proud, but I'm not exactly sure why this demon is any more likely than any of the others."

The girl smiled proudly. "You never said 'pool of blood.'"

"There _was_ no pool, just splatters."

"Then this is your guy," Dawn stated, "He laps up the blood."

"I'll drink to that." Spike picked up a mug from the coffee table and drained its contents. Xander's nose wrinkled at the sight of the vampire's "blood moustache."

"Could you be any more disgusting?"

Spike smirked, licking his lips.

"Now, if we just knew how to find this thing," Dawn muttered in thought.

Xander shrugged, "Well, we could ask some questions over at Willy's place."

"Or we could be smart," Buffy interjected, then threw her friend an apologetic look. "Sorry, Xander."

Xander blinked, clueless. "What?"

Spike's smirk widened.

"Well, whoever did this had to get blood on them," Buffy explained, "which means they left a trail. And we have a way to track it." She grinned in significance.

Dawn frowned, puzzled. "We have a— Oh! I get it."

"What?" Xander repeated, more confused than ever, "How— What's goin' on?"

Spike rolled his eyes.

* * *

They had to wait until nightfall, of course. But once the sun went down, they all went down to the construction site. The body had been taken away, but Spike said there was enough of a scent for him to pick up. It was a little odd watching the vampire crouch down and sniff around the area like a bloodhound. A moment later he straightened and walked purposely in the direction the killer had apparently gone. The trail led them to Wilken's Grove, a heavily wooded area in the center of town.

"You really think it's gonna work?" Xander finally asked as they tromped through the woods, Spike several yards ahead.

"It's pretty easy," Buffy replied, "Spike follows the exciting smell of blood, and we follow him."

"It's 'smellementary,'" Dawn quipped. "Also, I'm sure there's tons of stuff like this. Y'know, procedures we can use that don't involve magic spells," she said with growing enthusiasm, "Just good, solid detective work. And we can develop a database of tooth impressions and demon skin samples, and I could wear high heels more often!"

Buffy laughed, "Wow, that was so close to being empowered." She put a comradely arm around the girl's shoulders.

Spike came to an abrupt halt. "That's it," he announced, "End of the line. Everyone off."

The gang frowned at the looming rock formation before them. "That's a rock cliff," Buffy said.

"Well, give him a break, Buffy," Xander chided, "Maybe it's a vicious, skin-eating rock cliff."

Spike gave him a look that clearly stated he was an idiot. "There's a cave in it," he said, pushing aside some shrubbery to reveal the dark opening in the cliff. Xander had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed.

Brandishing the weapons they'd brought along, the four of them cautiously entered the cave. "Dark and dank," Xander muttered nervously, "I was hoping it'd be dark and dank."

"Something's movin' in here," Spike warned. They heard a scuttling noise, like a huge rat. It was very disconcerting.

"Guess we're in the right place," Buffy remarked.

"Look at the shorn lambs," a sing-songy voice called out, "See how they tremble. Is it the cold wind? Or is it that the flock is nowhere to be seen? Poor little lambs, all alone." The echo made it impossible to pinpoint; the demon could have been close, or at the opposite end of the cave. They couldn't be sure.

There was a sudden shriek and something darted out of the shadows. Dawn screamed in alarm, staggered back with her hand clutching her stomach.

"Dawn!" Buffy rushed to the girl's side, "Are you okay?"

"I guess so." Dawn withdrew her hand, revealing a long gash across her skin. Her body stiffened. "Poison...paralyzes."

Buffy caught Dawn before the girl could fall over. Xander hurried to support her other side. "Okay, we need to get her out of here," Buffy said as she dragged her sister towards the exit, "We'll deal with him later. Seal him in."

Once they were out of the cave, Spike rolled several loose boulders in front of the cave opening, blocking it completely. He then picked Dawn up and carried her bridal-style. It was faster than letting Xander and Buffy half-drag her along.

"The computer," Buffy stated as they hurried for home, "That thing Dawn was reading might have an antidote for the paralysis."

"Buffy," Dawn managed to talk through her stiffened jaw, "I'm really sorry."

Buffy patted the girl's shoulder. "Oh, it's okay."

"You couldn't help it," Xander comforted, "It had paralyzing fingernails."

"Just like you said it would," Spike cheerfully pointed out, "So, good on you, Niblet."

"Okay. Watch—Watch the head," Buffy cautioned as Spike maneuvered them through the door.

"Watch my head! Watch my head!" Dawn's muffled voice anxiously cried.

With a relieved sigh, Spike dropped the girl onto the couch.

"Face up!" she mumbled frantically into the cushions, "Face up!"

"Whups. Sorry, Platelet." Spike flipped her onto her back. Dawn's eyes glared up at him.

While Buffy checked the computer, Xander tried to reassure the teen. "It'll be alright. We'll get you fixed up. You'll be doin' limbo in no time."

"Yeah, as a pole," the girl responded sardonically.

"Oh, got it!" Buffy cried, squinting at the computer screen, "It says...the paralysis is permanent."

Dawn emitted a frightened _eep_.

"No. Oh, wait! My bad," Buffy winced, "Um, 'permanent until the creature dies.' Sorry. Guess we have to go back."

"We can't just leave her here like this," Xander cried, "What if she vomits?"

Spike frowned. "You think she'll vomit?"

"Stop talking about vomit!" Dawn mumbled loudly.

Buffy grabbed the phone. "I'll call Anya. She can watch her."

"Right. She'll love being called for vomit watch," Xander stated wryly.

"Stop. Talking. About. Vomit!"

It came as something of a surprise that Anya agreed to come over without much cajoling required. As soon as she arrived, she scrutinized the paralyzed teen with a curious tilt of her head and declared with her usual lack of sensitivity, "I bet she's dying."

"She's not dying," Buffy corrected, "She's just paralyzed."

"Oh. Paralyzed how?"

Xander frowned at her. "In the not-moving way."

"Well, there's lots of different ways. Did you try this?" Ignoring the girl's protests, Anya grabbed her legs and pulled them straight up, where they stayed in place.

"Oh! You're pose-able!" Xander grinned.

In a couple more moves, Anya had Dawn sitting up on her own. "Neat as you please," she smiled proudly, "Hardly a need to undo her."

Spike, meanwhile, was munching on some nuts Anya had brought with her. He looked at the can's unfamiliar label and asked, "Where'd you get the nuts?"

"Brazil," the vengeance demon replied casually. She took the can from him and popped a couple of nuts into her mouth. "No need to thank me, by the way, for sitting with her," she chewed thoughtfully, "I'm feeling very benevolent today. Helping Willow and Tara. Helping you. Might even call it even for that whole worm thing last week."

Buffy's head came up from where she was rummaging through her weapons trunk. "Wait, you saw Willow and Tara?"

Anya nodded, "Mm-hmm. Oh, they're looking for you, by the way. Decided you might be out in some cave. Sounded pretty tenuous."

Dawn's eyes widened in alarm. "Cave?"

Buffy stepped closer to the vengeance demon. "Anya, listen. This is really important. Did they go to that cave?"

"Last time I saw them, that's where they were headed." Anya glanced down at the teen. "Shall I make her salute? That'd be very cute." She sat down beside Dawn and proceeded to do just that, ignoring the girl's protests all the while.

"They could be there right now, trapped with the Gnarl," Spike said, frowning in concern.

"Oh, it's not _the_ Gnarl, just Gnarl," Anya corrected. "Wouldn't it be tragic if you were here being kinda silly with your comically paralyzed sister while Tara and Willow were dying?" she asked Buffy, her tone utterly lacking in worry.

Buffy stifled the urge to grab the woman and give her a rough shake. "Anya, you know about this creature?"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Spike took her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. "In that case, you're comin' with us."

Anya groaned and rolled her eyes. The things she did for her friends.

* * *

"Anya, you gotta keep up!" Xander yelled as they raced through the woods back to the cave.

"I'm out of shape!" Anya wheezed, "I've been teleporting for months."

Spike and Buffy arrived at the cave first. They quickly cleared away the boulders and ran inside. This time, Gnarl was in plain view, crouching down on the cave floor. He looked like something out of an old Grimm's fairytale illustration; twisted and bony with a comically bulbous nose and snaggly teeth. The demon hissed as it dodged Buffy's sword, vanishing into the shadows.

"What's going on?" Buffy looked around frantically, "Where are they?"

"They're right here," Anya knelt down at a particular spot, "Can't you see them? They're both paralyzed and Willow's hurt."

Xander waved his hand over the area. "There's nothing here."

Anya blinked in surprise. "Your hand is going right through them. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied, "But I'm startin' to get why we haven't seen them."

"Because we haven't _seen_ them," Xander declared.

"I get the feeling whatever's causing this invisible thing is a whole separate issue from the skin-eating monster," Spike muttered while his wary eyes scanned the surrounding darkness.

Anya cried out a warning, "Behind you!"

The vampire spun, leapt back as Gnarl's claws swiped at his midsection. There was a ripping sound as his shirt tore, but the skin underneath remained untouched. "Close one."

"Remember what I said," Anya called out as he and Buffy began fighting the demon, "Get him in the eyes."

Gnarl laughed as he dodged their swinging blades, lashing out with his deadly claws whenever he saw an opening. He seemed to see it all as a game, until an impatient Spike impaled the demon's foot with his dagger. While the creature shrieked in pain, Buffy rushed in and grabbed him by the head, driving her thumbs deep into his eye sockets. There was a disgusting squishy noise, then the demon fell over, dead.

"Ew!" Xander cried, "_Thumbs?_ I can't believe you did that!"

"Neither can I?" Buffy's lip curled as she stared at her slime-covered digits.

"Buffy killed the demon!" Anya informed the unseen witches, "It was gross."

They all hurried to where the vengeance demon knelt, asking whether Willow and Tara were okay.

Anya pushed Xander back, "Stand back. You're getting your feet in Willow." She got to her feet, her expression worried. "She's hurt really bad, you guys. I'm gonna go get help."

As Anya left the cave, Buffy leaned over the seemingly empty space on the floor and called out, "Guys? We-We can't exactly see you, but we're really glad that you're back. I-I don't know how badly you're hurt, but—"

A strange shimmer appeared. Within moments it coalesced into the familiar images of Tara and Willow. Willow's head was pillowed in her girlfriend's lap, her hands pressed over her bleeding stomach.

"W-We couldn't find you guys and we looked everywhere," Tara stammered.

"The demon said that you left us," Willow added, "and— Oh!" she brightened, "There you are! Don't go away."

"We're not goin' away," Xander promised.

Buffy reached down to grip her friend's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Wil. You're gonna be okay."

* * *

Willow had become more integrated with the magics than even she realized. It had reacted to her misgivings about seeing her friends again by putting her and Tara in a sort of alternate time dimension, where they existed in the same time and space as everyone else, yet were unable to see or touch each other. It revealed just how powerful Willow had become over the summer, and also how much farther she had to go in order to learn to control it. Tara, as it turned out, had a key role in her lessons. The blonde witch's presence didn't make Willow stronger, so much as help her to focus her abilities. They weren't sure if this steadying effect was purely psychological, or an actual magical talent she possessed, but Willow knew she wouldn't have learned so much so quickly without her girlfriend at her side.

While Buffy was visiting with a recovering Willow upstairs in the guest room, Tara, Xander, and Dawn chatted quietly around the dining table with cups of tea. Spike was once again sprawled lazily in front of the TV, flipping through random channels.

Tara gazed at the vampire in fascination. "His aura's changed so much," she remarked in awe, "It's like his and Buffy's have become mixed together."

"An said they're sharing a soul," Xander told her.

"And they're sharing Spike's demon," Dawn added.

"It's weird," Xander continued, "Sometimes when I'm in the room with them, I swear they're having a conversation even though they're not saying a word. Kinda freaks me out."

"Is it the Claim that's doing this?" Tara asked.

Dawn shrugged, "What else could it be?"

"That's amazing," Tara smiled, "And really beautiful. I'm sure Giles would love to hear about all this, since there isn't much documentation about Claims."

Dawn, their little junior Watcher, perked up at this. "Oh! I could start documenting everything we learn. It could be, like, the definitive work on the Claim!" Her eyes shone with the possibilities.

Xander and Tara shared smiled. "Sounds like a smart plan," Xander replied, "Especially since there might be more of these 'Intendeds' in the near future, if that book Michael Poole wrote is right."

"Hasn't been wrong so far," the teen pointed out.

Spike smiled, listening in on their conversation. He rather liked the idea at being the very first at something potentially world-altering, even if it did mean enduring Dawn's constant questions as she chronicled it all. He wondered what other changes lay in his and Buffy's future, and if they would all be of the good.


	5. Chapter 5: Help

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Sorry, Cassandra, I misunderstood_

_Now the last day is dawning_

_Some of us wanted, but none of us could_

_Listen to words of warning_

_But on the darkest of nights_

_Nobody knew how to fight_

_And we were caught in our sleep_

_Sorry, Cassandra, I didn't believe_

_You really had the power_

_I only saw it as dreams you would weave_

_Until the final hour_

-ABBA, "Cassandra"

Counseling at the school was...interesting. Sometimes Buffy felt like she genuinely helped the kids who were sent or came to her voluntarily. Sometimes all they really wanted was someone to listen to their fears. Other merely used her as an excuse to skip a class. One boy pretended to be uncertain of his sexual orientation in order to get her to go out with him, "just to be sure." Buffy just knew Spike would have a good chuckle over that one.

Cassie wasn't the last student she saw that day, but the girl wound up being the only one she remembered. Cassie was a senior, her blonde hair dyed with purple streaks, wearing Converse sneakers with her skirt and black T-shirt. She was sent to Buffy because she'd been missing classes and her grades had been slipping. When Buffy asked her why, all she said was, "It doesn't matter. I'm not gonna graduate, anyway."

"Why won't you graduate?" Buffy asked.

Cassie's eyes turned away. She chewed her lip. "Because next Friday I'm gonna die."

Buffy felt a chill. "Wh-What?"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"No! We have to talk about this," Buffy insisted, "Cassie, what makes you feel like this?"

The girl blinked. "Feel like what?"

"Like you wanna hurt yourself."

"Oh, I'm—I'm not gonna commit suicide, if that's what you're saying," Cassie laughed, "No way."

Buffy frowned, surprised at the girl's reaction. "Okay, then what are you saying?"

"Look," Cassie sighed, "I don't mean to be a pain. You seem really nice, and I know you're just trying to help. But I'm wasting your time."

"No, you're not. This is why I'm here," Buffy leaned forward, earnest, "Cassie, please tell me, why do you think you're gonna die?"

The teen gazed at her sadly. "I don't think it. I know it," she shrugged, "I just...know."

"What do you mean you know? A-Are you saying that someone's gonna hurt you? Has someone threatened you?"

"No. No, I-I just know that next Friday I'm gonna die. Some things I just know. I don't know how, I just do." Cassie licked her lips, her stare faraway. "Like I know there'll be coins," she said in a dreamy voice, "Lots of coins. Weird ones. I know you'll try to help."

"Cassie," Buffy interrupted, "I don't understand what you're saying."

The girl continued like she hadn't said anything, "But you can't, okay?" She got up from her chair, shouldered her schoolbag. "I gotta go. Trig. I don't want Mr. Corrigan sending me to Principal Wood again."

Buffy jumped to her feet. "Cassie, please—"

"Thanks for being so nice," she smiled, "I really do like that shirt. You should put a sweater on so it doesn't get stained. I gotta go."

"Cassie, wait. Please."

But she kept on walking.

Buffy immediately went to the principal's office to tell Robin Wood of the incident.

"What am I supposed to do?" she all but yelled when she was finished relating the story.

"Well, you did what you were supposed to do," Principal Wood stated calmly, "You reported the situation to me."

"And?"

Wood sighed, "Listen, Buffy, it's hard. Kids this age, they're hurting, they're pissed off, and they say things. Sometimes they say awful things. Students act out. Fear. Pain."

"But sometimes it's not just talk, right?"

The principal got up from behind his desk and went to the coffee machine sitting on top of a file cabinet. He poured two mugs of coffee, handed one to Buffy. "Every time there's a threat like this, we do the same dance," he explained, "Inform teachers. Search lockers. But we can't know what's gonna happen, and we can't search their brains. We just do what we can."

"It's not enough," Buffy insisted as Wood returned to his chair, "I need to fix this. I don't usually get a heads up before somebody dies."

The principal frowned in puzzlement. "What d'you mean, 'usually'?"

Buffy thought fast. "I-I mean, I'm sure it's not usual to get a chance to stop something like... I just... I just need to do something, okay?" She took a step closer. "I have to make this bett—Oh! Oh, shoot." Buffy had overlooked the fact that there was a desk between them. Her knee bumped against it and her coffee spilled all over the front of her shirt. As she dabbed ineffectually at the stain, she remembered Cassie's warning about putting on a sweater.

Buffy's last task of the day was to track down her sister and ask Dawn to get close to Cassie, try to figure out who might try to hurt the girl. That done, Buffy left the high school and headed for home.

* * *

The moment she got home, Buffy called a Scoobie meeting and asked Willow to get out her laptop and work her computer mojo. They needed to find out whatever they could about Cassie Newton. Buffy already had everything from the school's files about the girl. Cassie started out as a model student who made excellent grades. Then, almost overnight, her grades went downhill, she started missing classes, and teachers said she seemed apathetic and depressed.

The question was, what changed?

"If she did have some sort of psychic vision, that'd explain it," Spike remarked. He was leaning against the wall watching the Scoobies do their research. He'd been feeling Buffy's anxiety all day and it had him on edge.

Buffy looked at him. "I told you about the shirt, right? So, what d'you think? Is Cassie some kind of precog?"

The vampire blinked in surprise. "You're askin' me?"

"Well, you lived with a psychic for over a hundred years," Buffy pointed out, "That kinda makes you our resident expert."

Spike snorted, "I hardly think Dru would make a good basis for a comparison, luv. Half the time I wasn't sure if her visions were really visions or just sodding hallucinations."

"Besides, Buff, all you did was spill a cup of coffee," Xander interjected, "I'm not saying you don't have Slayer grace, but it's not the first time."

Tara added her own two cents, "I m-mean, maybe—just maybe—you're trying so hard to help th-that you're seeing _para_normal where there's just normal."

Buffy sighed, "Maybe, but maybe not."

"Have you Googled her, yet?" Willow asked.

"Willow! She's seventeen!" Xander exclaimed in alarm.

The redhead rolled her eyes. "It's a search engine." Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "Check this, she's got her own website."

Everyone leaned over her shoulders to peer at the screen.

"Wow, that's a lot of poems," Buffy declared.

Xander nodded sagely. "Poems. Always a sign of pretentious inner turmoil."

Spike glared at him, even though Harris knew nothing of William's sorry attempts at prose.

Willow clicked on one of the listed poems and started to read aloud, "_'The sheets above me cool my skin/like dirt on a madwoman's grave./I rise into the moonlight white/and watch the mirror stare./The pale fish looks back at me./Pale fish will never swim./My skin is milk for no man to drink./My thighs unused, unclenched./This body is not ready yet./But dirt waits for no woman,/and coins will buy no time./I hear the chatter of the bugs./It's they alone will feast.'_"

"Okay," Xander drawled, "Death really is on her brain."

Dawn had returned home from school about halfway through Willow's recitation and joined the huddled group. "We all deal with death," she said.

"This girl isn't just dealing," Xander retorted, "She's giving death a long, sloppy word-kiss. She has a yen for the big dirt nap."

Not everyone was convinced. Willow tried another search and came up with the name Philip Newton.

"That's her dad," Buffy said, "Open it."

"Guys," Dawn spoke up, excited by the theory bouncing around in her head, "I'm telling you, I got this case cracked wide open. I got the perp fingered. I told you about Mike Helgenburg, right? The one that keeps asking her to the dance. I'm thinking, who likes to be rejected? Nobody. I'm thinkin', some people can't handle rejection. I'm thinkin'—"

"Hey, I've got something," Willow interrupted, much to the teen's chagrin. She frowned at the long list of police reports that appeared, "'Drunk and disorderly. Disturbing the peace.' There's a lotta charges here."

"Sounds like dad's a drunk," Spike remarked.

"A violent drunk," Tara added.

Buffy decided it was worth investigating, so she and Xander left to have a chat with Philip while the others continued their research. At one point, when Willow walked away from the computer to take a break, Spike sat in her vacated chair and pulled up Cassie's website again. The list of poems she'd posted were numbered. Curious, Spike selected Poem #5.

_I sit alone at my windowsill_

_Trees crackle, sunshine blares_

_And children laugh like death_

_Their sharp happiness is a knife to me_

_One jealous snake on a windowsill_

_They will be here, trees and sun,_

_And children with canes and pruney skin_

_When I am but a memory,_

_A laugh in the trees of time_

_I sit alone and try to love them_

_I sit alone, a snake_

_I sit alone and try to love them_

_I sit alone and laugh_

Well, one thing was certain; this chit was a better poet than William ever was. Spike sighed and exited the site.

Buffy and Xander returned shortly after, looking slightly downtrodden. They'd talked to Philip Newton and found out the divorced man was only allowed to see his daughter one weekend a month. Last weekend was Cassie's most recent visit, which meant her father couldn't possibly be the culprit.

Later that night, Spike fought back an angry groan as Buffy shifted beside him in bed. She'd been tossing and turning all night, her restlessness and the constant fretting echoing through the link keeping him awake as well. "Luv, you can't help anybody if you're sleep deprived," he mumbled into his pillow.

Buffy sat up and propped herself up against the headboard. "Tomorrow's Friday."

"Technically, it's Friday _now_," Spike grumbled.

"Cassie said that's the day she's gonna die," she continued, "And I still don't have a clue what's gonna happen or how to help her. It's just—It's so frustrating!" She smacked her fist into the mattress. "I feel so useless."

Resigning himself to sleeplessness, Spike rolled onto his back and held his arm out in invitation. "Come here."

Buffy hesitated, then scooted down and rested her head against his shoulder. Spike wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. "If this girl can be saved, you'll save her," he stated in total confidence.

"She seems so sure," Buffy murmured, her anxiety plain.

Spike gently stroked her hair with his other hand. "Not every vision comes true, luv. Even Dru got things wrong once in a while. Just proves that nothing's set in stone."

Buffy slowly relaxed as her vampire soothed her with words and touch and feeling. Eventually, she was able to doze, and when she woke the next morning, she went to the school with a renewed sense of purpose.

* * *

Just as Principal Wood had promised, the students' lockers were searched. When they opened up locker #281, several weird-looking coins spilled out.

"Seems like someone's got quite a coin collection, huh?" Wood remarked.

Buffy examined one. It looked old, hand-beaten with strange occultish symbols engraved on it. Cassie had mentioned coins in her vision. Buffy found out who's locker it was and had the boy sent to her office.

"You wanted to see me?" The kid fidgeted nervously in the chair.

Buffy leaned against her desk, looming over him. Her expression was stony. "You have locker number two-eighty-one?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Buffy held up one of the coins, noted the flash of alarm in the boy's eyes. "I want you to tell me what this is and what this has to do with a girl named Cassie Newton."

The kid's eyes darted around the room. "I don't know. I-It's late. I'm gonna miss my bus."

"I know it's late," Buffy said in her most intimidating, don't-give-me-any-shit voice, "That's why I don't have time to mess around. So you need to talk to me, _now_."

"Believe me, i-if I knew anything I'd tell you. I just...don't." Everything from his expression to his tense body language screamed that he was lying. He did know something, and Buffy was determined to find out what.

"Do you know why I came back to Sunnydale High?" she asked conversationally.

The kid blinked at this sudden change in tack. "To creep me out?"

"To help. I'm a counselor here because I wanna help. I know what it's like to walk these halls and feel lost, alone. I just wanna make things better. Connect." Buffy rose to her full height and stood over the intimidated teen. "And I'm gonna connect with your face if you don't stop wasting my time and help me do my job."

"I... Please—"

"A girl could die."

The boy's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I guess I know who you're talking about," he admitted, "She's some weirdo suicidal poet girl. These guys I know wanna mess with her. They've got this plan..."

* * *

Shortly after Buffy's little chat with the boy, a frantic Dawn came running and told her that Cassie had disappeared as they were leaving the school. It looked like the girl had been snatched. Buffy reassured her sister that everything would be alright. She knew what was going down later that night and they would be ready.

They. Funny how it never occurred to her to go it alone, even though she'd been facing dangers far worse than this by herself for years. She was the Chosen _One_, after all. But now, her first instinct was to have Spike at her side. It wasn't because she lacked confidence in herself; it was the knowledge that someone she trusted always had her back, should things unexpectedly spiral out of control.

They sneaked into the school through the sewer access, trying their best to ignore the ominous vibe from the Hellmouth. The kid had told Buffy that the deed would take place in the library after dark. Sure enough, some boys were already there and had set the place up for their little ceremony. Tables had been pushed back, leaving a large open space. Torches were set up around the perimeter, waiting to be lit. Those weird coins were arranged in a circle at the center of the cleared floor, and inside that circle was an old meat cleaver, its blade spotted with age.

The gathering boys were all dressed in long red robes. This made Buffy's and Spike's task easier, as they were able to snag a couple of those guys, knock them out, and put on their robes. The couple joined the rest of the boys, who arrayed themselves around the circle of coins. Each was given a lit candle, and they all dropped to their knees, heads bowed.

The guys in charge was some meathead named Peter. Buffy recognized him as the boy who'd come to her office as a lame excuse to get out of class.

"All present?" he asked in an authoritative voice, "Then we begin."

The solemnity of the moment was ruined when one of the kids began to snicker.

"Mandell, shut up," Peter snapped.

"Sorry, dude," the boy twitched in puppy-ish excitement, "It's just so cool. I mean, we're gonna be rich!"

Unseen beneath the cowl of his stolen robe, Spike rolled his eyes. Bloody idiots thought this was all a game.

Peter scowled, "Yeah, well, keep your shorts on, alright? We have to do the ritual if we wanna score. O'Keefe, did you take care of the fire exits?"

"Yeah," another teen grinned, "Anybody tries to bust in here's gonna get a nasty surprise. I set up this booby trap my cousin Ben always used to do—"

"Then nobody is getting in," Peter interrupted. He used his candle to light all the torches (Spike hope they'd turned off the fire sprinklers while they were at it), then grabbed something from a dark corner of the room and dragged it into the circle. It was Cassie, blindfolded and gagged with duct tape, hands tied behind her back. "And nobody is getting out," Peter stated.

The boys' eyes widened at the sight of the trussed-up girl. One of them rasped a startled, "Dude."

Maybe they didn't realize the ceremony involved a sacrifice, or maybe they thought it would only be something like a small animal. But now Spike saw the first glimmers of uncertainty in the kids' stares. It was starting to sink in that they were getting into something serious.

"This is our sacrifice," Peter declared, in case the others weren't catching on. He removed the blindfold, then leaned close to the sobbing girl and whispered harshly in her ear, "It's nothing personal. It's just that you have this death-chick suicidal vibe going. I figure if you disappear, everybody will just assume you threw yourself in a river somewhere." He smirked, then straightened and said to the surrounding teens, "Extinguish."

One by one, they licked their fingers and snuffed out their candles. Spike and Buffy followed suit.

Peter reached for the meat cleaver and began to chant, "Almighty Avilas, please accept our sacrifice. Please appear before us, O mighty soldier of the dark. Please appear before us and grant us with infinite riches, and we will pay you with our sacrifice. We kneel before you with the gift of flesh."

As he raised the blade towards Cassie's vulnerable throat, one of the kneeling figures abruptly stood and threw off the robe. "Okay," Buffy stated, no-nonsense, "that is going on your permanent record."

The teens leapt back in shock. Peter stood, pointing the cleaver at her. "Wait, this is the counselor! What's she doing here?"

The robed figures backed away from her, nothing more than frightened boys pretending to be something more.

"Back off," Peter growled, "Get back. Get back, you stupid bitch."

Anger flickered across Buffy's face and she kicked out, her foot connecting with the boy's face. He staggered back, his hand covering his bloodied nose. He gaped at her in astonishment for a moment before his expression darkened. "Oh, you're gonna die!"

Another kick sent him sprawling on the floor. The cleaver slipped from his grasp and clattered on the floor.

"Do you know how lame this is?" Buffy chided, shaking her head in scorn, "Bored teenage boys trying to raise up a demon? Sorry he didn't show. I bet it's because you forgot the boombox playing some heavy metal thing like...Blue Clam Cult? I think that's the key to the raising of lame demons."

Peter's gaze focused past her shoulder. A smug grin tugged at his lips. "That lame demon?" he pointed.

Buffy turned and found herself face to face with one of the ugliest demons she'd ever seen. Its thick hide looked like gnarled wood, and its head was shaped like a cow's skull, of all things. The wannabe summoners took one look at that thing and ran off in a panic. They'd apparently forgotten all about their infinite riches in favor of getting the hell away.

Unfortunately, the demon was every bit as strong as it looked. When Buffy punched it, it was like hitting the side of a mountain. The creature knocked her down and raised one foot to crush her head. That was when Spike decided to step in. He threw off his robe, grabbed one of the torches, and brandished it at the demon. The demon jerked away from the flames, giving Buffy the chance to jump to her feet.

"My hero."

Spike grinned. "Want me to do the honors?"

Buffy shook her head, took the torch from him. "Untie her. I'll take care of this."

Spike turned his attention to Cassie just in time to see Peter coming at the girl with the cleaver. _Doesn't this git know when he's beaten?_ Spike wondered in exasperation. He leapt forward and tackled the boy to the floor. He punched the kid in the face and flinched when the chip went off.

"Who are you?" Peter cried.

Spike answered with a menacing growl, "I'm a bad man." He punched the teen one more time, pain be damned, then snatched up the cleaver from the boy's slackened grip. Spike went over to Cassie and used the blade to saw through the ropes that tied her wrist, then ripped the duct tape away from her mouth. "You okay, pet?"

The girl looked at him, her cheeks tear-stained, a faint smile on her face. "She will come for you."

Spike frowned in confusion. A loud roar then drew his attention to the fight. Buffy had thrust the torch into the demon's torso and the creature lit up like the dried wood it resembled. Within seconds it was engulfed in flames, then collapsed in a smoldering heap. Buffy tossed aside the spent torch and hurried to check on Cassie. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Spike assured her.

Peter startled them all when he suddenly crawled past them towards the smoking remains of the demon he'd summoned. "You can't be dead! Where are my infinite riches?"

"Give it up, you nit," Spike sneered, "The beastie's charcoal—"

The demon suddenly reared up and sank its blackened teeth into the boy's shoulder. Peter fell back with a scream, one hand clamped over the wound. The demon's corpse exploded, showering the area with charred lumps and soot.

"Whoa!" Cassie gaped.

Spike quirked a scarred eyebrow at her. "Didn't see _that_ comin', did ya?"

Buffy's amusement rippled through their link. She helped Cassie to her feet and they and the vampire headed for the exit.

"It bit me!" Peter cried petulantly, "Help! Help me, please, I'm bleeding!"

Buffy carelessly replied, "Sorry. My office hours are ten to four."

They left the library and made their way to the nearest exit. "It's all okay, now," Buffy promised, "I hope you're not too disappointed." She smiled.

As Cassie pushed the door open, O'Keefe's booby trap was sprung. A string attached to the door pulled the trigger on a mounted crossbow, sending a bolt towards the girl's head. With lightning reflexes, Buffy snatched the arrow out of the air a hair's breadth from its target. "See?" she snapped the bolt in half, "You can make a difference."

Cassie smiled, reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from Buffy's face. "And you will."

Spike heard it, that strange little stutter in the girl's heartbeat, just before it fell silent. Cassie's eyes widened and she let out a slight gasp. Her last breath. Buffy caught her as she slumped to the floor. "Cassie? Cassie!"

The girl's eyes stared sightlessly back at her.

Spike knelt beside them and pressed his fingers to the girl's carotid, knowing already that he wouldn't find a pulse. "She's gone."

"What?" Buffy gasped, "N-No, she can't... I helped her. I helped her!" She started shaking the girl's shoulders. "Cassie, get up! Get up! Please, get up..." She didn't realize she was crying until Spike pulled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed while he gently rocked her back and forth.

* * *

Willow, Tara, Xander, Dawn, all were sitting around the living room wearing the same solemn expression. Tears rolled down Dawn's cheeks. Aside from Buffy, she'd taken Cassie's death the hardest.

Buffy was squeezed in with Spike in the easy chair, her head resting on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her blonde hair, stroked her back in gentle circles. Her eyes stared straight ahead at nothing.

"How was her mom?" Tara asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence.

"Okay," Buffy answered in a dull monotone, "As okay as... She told me their family had a history of heart irregularities. She never told Cassie."

"Cassie didn't know?" Willow asked, surprised, "Then it was fate?"

Xander shook his head sadly, "Then she was going to die no matter what, wasn't she? It didn't matter what you did."

Buffy swallowed against the tightening of her throat. "She just knew. She was special. I failed her."

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but Dawn beat him to it. "No. You didn't," the girl's voice quavered, "'cause you tried. You listened and you tried. She died because of her heart, not because of you. She was my friend 'cause of you." Dawn sniffled, "I guess sometimes you can't help."

Buffy felt a sense of hopelessness weigh her down. "So what then? What do you do when you know that? When you know that maybe you can't help?"

No one had any answers.

Later that night, in the room Buffy and Spike shared, they made love, and there was a desperation in the act. Buffy clung to her lover afterward and wept bitterly. It wasn't fair. Cassie had so much life in her, so much she could have done with it. And now it was just...gone. Snuffed out by tiny flaw that had doomed her from birth. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that Cassie had _known_, and been helpless to prevent it. If it hadn't been for her ability to see the future, she could have lived her short life in blissful ignorance. She could have made plans for a future she never would've realized was never going to happen. She could have said yes when her friend asked her to the winter formal, kept going to school, kept making friends. She could have been happy.

"Keep trying," Spike murmured.

Buffy leaned back to meet his gaze, her brow creased in a questioning frown.

Spike smiled and gently brushed her hair back, cradled her face in his hands. "When you know that maybe you can't help," he told her, "You keep trying anyway."

Buffy stared at him for a long beat, then nodded. The next day, she returned to work at the high school.


	6. Chapter 6: Selfless

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and faves so far! Here's another chapter. Sorry it's not the most cheery episode, but the next one's gonna be fun. See ya then! ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_What's the point of loving?_

_I mean, except for the sweaty part_

_What's the point of losing your heart?_

_Maybe if you're lucky_

_Being a pair makes you twice as tall_

_Maybe you're not losing at all_

_No need to cover up my heart_

_Plus see above re: sweaty part_

_So maybe love is pretty smart_

_Then so am I_

_I found my guy_

-Anya, "I'll Be Mrs."

They'd finally gotten the rest of Willow's and Tara's things shipped over from England and were in the process of putting everything away. Willow was unpacking boxes of clothes while Tara handled knickknacks and books. Dawn was helping out, mostly by giving the two ladies advice on their impending return to college. Spike overheard some of it as he was lugging another heavy box into the room. Bloody hell, these birds kept a lotta junk!

"My advice to you is do exactly what everyone else does all the time," Dawn counseled the adult women.

"Got it," Willow smiled while folding shirts and putting them away in the dresser.

"Do what everyone else does, wear what everyone else wears, say what everyone else says."

Spike set the box down on the bed and exchanged an amused glance with Tara. "Okay," the witch agreed.

"People may say something to you that you don't understand," the teen warned, "Just don't be afraid to keep your mouth shut and pretend like you know what they're saying."

"Y'know, Platelet," Spike interjected, "They've been to college before."

The girl continued as if he hadn't spoken, "People may say something like, 'My protein window closes in an hour.' Just nod and smile." She demonstrated, bobbing her head sagely and _mm-hmm_ing. Then she added, "Turns out it has something to do with fitness."

Buffy and Xander entered the room carrying more stuff. "Have you talked to her lately?" Buffy asked.

"Not since that night with the Gnarl demon," Xander replied, revealing the subject of their discussion as his ex, "And that wasn't exactly the kind of 'How have you been?' kind of talking. More the 'Pierce its eye with something sharp,' kind of talking. I'm thinking I should call her."

Spike's scarred eyebrow quirked. "Sure that's a good idea?"

Xander threw him an irritated look. "Uh, A and B conversation, dude," he pointed at himself and Buffy.

The vampire opened his mouth to offer a scathing retort when Buffy hastily broke in, "He kinda has a point, Xander. I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

"Hopes?" he let out an unconvincing scoff, "Oh, no, no, no. There are no hopes. Anya and I are done. I love being single! I'm a strong, successful male who's giddy at the thought of all the women I will no doubt be dating in the near future."

Spike snorted.

"Strong, successful males say 'giddy'?" Buffy teased.

Xander looked down at his shoes. "I just worry about her, that's all."

"Anya?" Willow asked.

"Yeah. She seems so sad."

"She should try acting like everybody else more," Dawn offered.

"Apparently, it's what all the kids are doin' nowadays," Spike grinned wryly.

"Well, I'm not sure I get the sad vibe," Buffy said, "but there's definitely a vengeance vibe worth worrying about."

Xander's eyebrows rose. "Oh, that? No, no. I don't worry about that. She was hurt, and she just turned back to what she knew when I...you know. But that's not her anymore."

"I hope you're right," Buffy replied, less than confident.

"Well, she turned that worm guy back before any real damage happened, right?" Xander pointed out, "It'll just take some time. I really think she's coming around."

Spike didn't even try to conceal his doubt. Harris still viewed his ex through rose-colored glasses. The whelp didn't understand the nature of vengeance demons. Didn't _want_ to understand. It wasn't like they had a choice. D'Hoffryn ran a tight ship. If his demons didn't meet their quota...well, let's just say getting fired was the least of their worries.

Buffy had more of an understanding of these things, being the Slayer and all. Which was why Spike clearly felt the knot of dread that settled in her every time the subject of Anya came up. Sooner or later, the vengeance demon would grant one horrific wish too many, and Buffy would be forced to take her out, friend or not.

* * *

It was a slow, boring day at the high school counselor's office. Buffy was balancing a cup of pencils on her forehead when the phone on her desk suddenly rang, startling her and sending the pencil cup spilling all over the floor. Buffy grabbed the receiver and blurted, "Hello!"

It was Willow. She and Tara had been reapplying at their various classes that day. The redhead had just finished talking to one of her professors when she stumbled across a gory scene at a frat house. Some kind of big spider demon ripped out all the boys' hearts. Buffy got the impression her friend wasn't up for sidekick-ing, so she called on Xander, who was more than happy to tag along. If it weren't for the fact that it was broad daylight, she would've taken Spike.

The Claim had been making noticeable, but gradual, changes to Spike's vampiric nature. He'd built up some resistance to crosses, holy water, and sunlight—but not enough to keep these things from damaging him. Maybe someday he'd be able to take an afternoon stroll, but it seemed like a long ways off.

Buffy and Xander found the spider demon in the woods not far from the university. It had killed an unfortunate hiker, and Buffy got pretty scratched up in the ensuing confrontation, but in the end her axe won out.

They returned to Buffy's house to find Spike sitting in the living room with Tara and Willow. All three of them wore sober expressions. Buffy gave her vampire a questioning look. He shrugged. "They wanted to wait 'til you two got back."

"What is it?" Xander asked, picking up on the anxious vibe.

"You'd b-better sit down," Tara advised. Willow then proceeded to tell them everything; about the girl Willow found hiding in a closet at the massacred frat house; about the wish she'd made; about seeing Anya leaving that same house with blood splashed on her wrist.

At one point, Spike stood up and went to lean against the wall, arms crossed. The emotions he picked up from Buffy made him restless. The resignation and despair. It made him want to punch something.

Xander was in complete and utter shock that his ex would be involved in so many horrible deaths. He was also upset to be learning about it now rather than earlier. "When were you planning on telling us?" he accused.

Willow shifted uncomfortably. Tara placed a comforting hand on her knee. "We're telling you now," the redhead answered.

"Great. Thank you," Xander muttered sardonically. "Willow, it's Anya. How could you let us— How could you not have told us?"

"Xander," Buffy all but whispered.

"How could you not have told _me?_" he asked, hurt.

"Xander, it's okay," Buffy quietly interrupted, "They didn't tell us for a reason. They didn't tell us because they know what I have to do."

At Xander's questioning look, Spike responded for her, "She has to kill Anya."

_"What?"_ Xander stared at his friend in horror.

"She's not the Anya that you knew, Xander," Buffy tried to explain, "She's a demon."

"That doesn't mean you have to kill her!"

Spike bit back a sharp response, mostly because Buffy silently asked him to stay quiet. Xander was upset enough without the vampire egging him on.

"Don't act like this is easy for me," Buffy admonished her friend, "You know it's not."

"There are other options," Xander insisted.

"I've considered them."

"When?" Xander snapped, "Just now? Took you all of ten seconds to decide to kill one of your best friends?"

"The thought that it might come to this has occurred to me before," Buffy replied, somber, "It's occurred to you, too."

"But we can change what she did. Fix it." He turned to the two witches in desperation. "These are mystical deaths, right? There has to be something."

"We don't have anywhere near that kind of power," Tara said, her expression sympathetic.

"And I-I don't think I trust the power I do have," Willow added. She lowered her head in defeat.

Tara gave her knee a squeeze. "It's okay, sweetie."

"Xander, I know this is hard for you to hear," Buffy told him, "but it's what I have to do."

"Hard for me to hear?" he stared at her, incredulous, "Buffy, you want to kill Anya."

"I don't _want_ to."

"Then don't!" Xander's tone became accusing, "Or is this because you don't care about her the same way I do? Buffy, I still love her."

Buffy remained sympathetic. "I know. And that's why you can't see this for what it really is. Anya's a demon."

"And you're the Slayer." Xander chuckled humorlessly and gazed up at the ceiling. "I see now how it's all very simple."

Buffy shook her head. "It is never simple."

Xander got up from his seat and glared down at her. "No, of course not. Y'know, if there's a mass-murdering demon that you're, oh, say, _boning_, then it's all gray area."

Buffy stood as well, her outstretched hand halting Spike before the vampire could let out an angry outburst. "This isn't about Spike," she retorted, "I didn't stake him when he came to us because he was harmless."

"He had no choice!" Xander cried.

"And Anya did!" Buffy countered, "She _chose_ to become a demon. Twice."

"You have no idea what she's going through."

Buffy turned away from him in frustration. "I don't care what she's going through."

"No, of course not," Xander's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You think we haven't all seen this before? The part where you just cut us all out, just step away from everything human and act like you're the law? If you knew what I felt—"

_"I killed Angel."_

Her words stopped him cold. Buffy faced him, all the remembered pain and sorrow blazing from her eyes. "Do you even remember that?" she asked.

Tara and Willow's gazes turned downward. Even Spike looked away as her emotions assaulted him. Emotions he couldn't help but feel hurt by, because they were for someone else, someone he hated.

"I would've given up everything I had to be with him," Buffy continued, voice raw, "I loved him more than I ever loved anything in my life. And I put a sword through his heart, because I had to." She glared at her oldest friends. "Do you remember cheering me on? Both of you. Do you remember giving me Willow's message? 'Kick his ass.'"

Willow's head jerked up in surprise and she threw a reproachful look at Xander. "I never said that!"

"This is different," Xander protested weakly.

"It is always different!" Buffy cried, "It's always complicated. And, at some point, someone has to draw the line, and that is always going to be _me._ You-You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end, the Slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guide book, no all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. There's only me. I _am_ the law."

Xander stared at her helplessly. "There has to be another way."

"Then please find it," the Slayer begged.

With a shaky nod, Xander grabbed his jacket and left. Buffy went over to the weapons chest, pulled out a sword and an axe. She held the axe out towards Spike, uncertain, fearing she may have to do this awful task alone. Spike's gaze was steady as he took the weapon from her without hesitation. The sun was low enough now that he could safely go outside.

Buffy turned to the witches.

Willow chewed her lip. "I can't. I-I'm sorry."

Tara shook her head as well. Buffy nodded in understanding, then she and Spike grabbed their coats and went out the door to hunt Anya down.

Willow jumped up from her seat. "Come on."

"What are we doing?" Tara asked, following her girlfriend.

"Before we met, D'Hoffryn gave me his talisman," Willow told her, "If we can find it, I can use it to summon him."

"You think he'll help Anya?"

Willow pursed her lips. "I'm hoping."

* * *

In the end, they tracked Anya down to the scene of her crime; the frat house. And she wasn't alone.

"Buffy, get outta here," Xander demanded.

She and Spike readied their weapons. "Get out of our way, Xander."

"No."

"Get out of their way, Xander."

He turned to discover Anya shifted into her demonic form. Her arm lashed out and knocked him aside. Then the fight began.

It was easy to underestimate vengeance demons. They did so little direct confrontation that one could forget the fact that they were nearly indestructible, not to mention incredibly strong. Even an armed Slayer and vampire together had a hard time keeping up with her.

"C'mon, Buffy," Anya jeered, "Don't you have a clever retort for me?"

Buffy's expression was filled with regret. "Anya, I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing to me?" she scoffed, "What fight are you watching? Or is this like one of your little pop-culture references I don't get 'cause I'm a vengeance—" She lunged, Buffy dodged aside. Anya hit the wall and when she turned, Buffy plunged her sword through the demon's chest. Anya gasped, her head slumped, and her features returned to their human appearance.

Xander stirred from where he'd been knocked down. When he saw his ex literally pinned to the wall, his eyes widened in horror. "Anya!"

Anya gasped awake. She stared down at the sword jutting from her. "I'd forgotten how much swords through the chest hurt," she remarked, pulling the blade out of her with a pain-filled shriek. She gave the Slayer a chiding look. "You know better than that, Buffy. Takes a lot more to kill a vengeance demon."

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Buffy caught the axe Spike tossed to her just in time to block Anya's swing with the bloodied sword. There was a flurry of blows and clashing metal, then the sword was knocked from Anya's grasp and the demon fell from a kick to the midsection. As Buffy raised the axe to behead her, Anya lay passively, waiting for the end.

Xander tackled Buffy, knocking them both to the floor. Anya leapt to her feet and glared at the carpenter. "Stop trying to save me, Xander!"

A sudden burst of crackling light sent everyone sprawling. When they picked themselves up, they found D'Hoffryn standing in the middle of the floor. The Lower Being raised a hand, "Oh, please, don't mind me. Continue with whatever it was you were doing." He wandered over to the door leading to the room where all the bodies lay. "Oh, breathtaking! It's like somebody slaughtered an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog."

Buffy started to raise her axe when Spike gripped her arm. The vampire knew better than to threaten a Lower Being.

"Easy, now," D'Hoffryn cautioned, "I'd be gone before you could swing. Isn't that just like a Slayer? Solving all her problems by sticking things with sharp objects." He offered his hand to Anya, who hesitantly accepted his help in standing. "I talked to your friend, Ms. Rosenberg," D'Hoffryn stated with a grin, "She's a firebrand. I have high hopes for her."

Xander tensed. "Stay away from Willow."

"Oh, he's gallant, isn't he?" D'Hoffryn smirked, glanced at Anya, "I understand what you saw in him." He began to stride across the floor, hands clasped behind his back, tone conversationa. "Ms. Rosenberg seems to think Anyanka would be better suited outside the vengeance fold. I think we already know what Lady Hacks-Away and her vampire sidekick want. And the young man, well, he sees with the eyeballs of love. But I'm not sure if anyone's bothered to find out what Anyanka herself really wants."

"Her name is Anya," Xander argued. Spike gritted his teeth; idiot didn't know when to shut up.

Fortunately, D'Hoffryn continued with his cavalier attitude. "Actually, a funny historical sidebar. Her original name was—"

"I wanna take it back."

The Lower Being turned to Anya, his expression abruptly stilled. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Anya took a breath, "I wanna take it back. I want to undo what I did."

"Hmm. You want to take it back," though his voice remained casual, there was an underlying hardness that hadn't been there a moment before, "Must be twelve bodies in there. Such a thing—not easily done...but not impossible. You're a big girl, Anyanka. You understand how this works. The proverbial scales must balance. In order to restore the lives of the victims, the fates require a sacrifice. The life and soul of a vengeance demon."

Anya drew herself up, nodded once. "Do it."

"Wait!" Xander yelled.

"Stay out of this, Xander."

"Okay, right. That seems smart," he fidgeted anxiously, "But he just said you have to die! Perhaps there's some sort of...alternate price?"

"Xander," Anya looked at him with teary eyes, a sad smile on her face, "You can't help me. I'm not even sure there's a me to help." She turned back to her soon-to-be-former master. "I understand the price. Do it."

"You're sure?" D'Hoffryn asked, as if he were asking whether she wanted two lumps in her tea, "This is your wish?"

"This is my wish," Anya stated, utterly calm, "Undo what I did."

D'Hoffryn pursed his lips and nodded. "Very well." He clapped his hands once.

"No!" Xander cried.

There was a flash, then suddenly Halfrek was standing before them all. The puzzled vengeance demon's eyes fastened on her closest friend and a delighted smile lit up her face. "Anya!"

"Hallie?" Anya looked at D'Hoffryn, saw his stony expression and felt a weight of dread come over her. Before she could say anything, she saw Halfrek throw her head back and scream as flames erupted from her mouth and eyes. The flames quickly engulfed her entire body. Within moments there was nothing left.

Buffy felt a pained tremor through the link, saw the way Spike kept his face carefully neutral. Of course he was affected by Halfrek's senseless death. When he was William and she was Cecily, she had been his first love. Didn't matter that his love was one-sided. You never completely get over your first love. Buffy knew that first-hand.

D'Hoffryn's enraged eyes fixed on Anya. "Who did you think you were dealing with?" he snarled, his mask of affability stripped away by his favorite demon's spurning, "Did you think it would be that easy to get away?"

Anya shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes. "Why?"

"Why?" D'Hoffryn laughed bitterly, "Because you wished it!"

"But she was yours."

"The way you were mine? Haven't I taught you anything, _Anya?_" he spat the name, "Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain. I've got plenty of girls. There will always be vengeance demons, but now you, Anya, you're out. Congratulations. Your wish is granted."

Anya swallowed, guilt and sorrow breaking her heart. "You should've killed me."

D'Hoffryn scoffed, "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." He turned to address them all, intoning the all-too-familiar words, "From beneath you, it devours. Be patient. All good things in time." And with that, he vanished.

Anya stood forlornly, then slowly walked out the door and into the night. Xander hesitated, clearly wanting to follow. From the other room, the sounds of the confused resurrected frat boys could be heard.

"Go," Buffy said to her friend, "We'll check on the boys."

Grateful, Xander hurried after his departed ex. Buffy's worried gaze settled on Spike.

"Later," the vampire stated tersely. Buffy nodded and the two of them went to make sure all the frat boys were unharmed.

* * *

Dawn, Willow, and Tara were apparently already in bed by the time Spike and Buffy returned home. Buffy put away the weapons. As she closed the trunk, she saw the vampire sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head lowered. She went to sit beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She didn't say a word; didn't have to. Her gentle comforting radiated through the link.

After a while, Spike began to talk. "First time I met Cecily was at one of those bloody awful debutante balls. She was wearing a white gown with a light blue floral pattern, and she looked every bit as bored as I was." A smile tugged at his lips. "I managed to work up the courage to introduce myself. She was...polite. Chatted about nothin' for maybe five minutes before some bloke asked her to dance. I think she was eager to get away from me by then," he chuckled humorlessly, then his smile faded, "I was in love with her ever since."

"I'm sorry," Buffy rubbed her hand across his shoulders, "And I'm sorry I brought up Angel—"

"Harris needed reminding." Spike's level gaze met hers. "Whelp's quick to forget your sacrifices."

"He was upset. He wasn't thinking."

The vampire scoffed, ran his hands through his platinum hair, mussing the curls. "No, he never does. Bloody git." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "If he'd manned up and called off the wedding instead of dumping Anya at the altar, she wouldn't have gone runnin' back to D'Hoffryn. Wouldn't have trapped herself in a situation she didn't have the stomach for anymore. And Halfrek wouldn't have had to die so Anya could get out of it again." Spike shook his head in disgust. "Everybody thinks Harris is so harmless. The soddin' comic relief. Including you," he looked at Buffy, "But he's done as much damage as any demon you've had to kill."

Buffy's lip trembled. "S-Spike—"

He cut her off with a sudden, intense kiss. When they finally drew apart he rasped, "You could've been killed, too, Buffy. You could've _died_." He kissed her again, desperately.

Buffy wound her arms around him and gave into his need. How many times had he comforted her this way? Given her exactly what she needed when her emotions were raw. Now it was her turn, and she did so without reservation.

Spike shoved the coffee table away and lay her down on the floor. As he tugged at her jeans, Buffy tried to pull his T-shirt off, only succeeding in hindering them both. They finally gave up and undressed themselves, then came together in a tangle of limbs. As Spike slid into her, Buffy's emotions sang through the link. _Love...sooth...comfort._

Spike's breath hitched. _Love...need...hurt._

Buffy's legs tightened around his waist. She turned her head, baring the Claim mark to him. Her hand cupped the back of Spike's head and gently drew him down. She heard bones shift as he slipped into gameface, then his fangs slid into her neck.

_Yes,_ the link sang, and it was impossible to tell one from the other in that moment, _Joy...love...belonging._

Spike released her throat and licked the wounds closed. His features melted back into human form and his lips met Buffy's. With one final thrust, he came, and she followed, their muffled cries filling the silent living room.

Buffy smiled and traced his features with her fingertips. Spike turned his head to kiss her palm. A low purr of contentment rumbled in his chest. Buffy loved that sound. She'd been surprised and delighted the first time she heard it. It only happened when Spike was at his happiest.

Reluctantly, she pushed him away so she could sit up. "How about we go upstairs? Bed's comfier than the floor."

Grinning, Spike pulled Buffy to her feet, then helped her gather up their discarded clothes and followed her up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7: Him

**A/N:** This was a funny episode, and it was fun to write the chapter for it. Stay tuned for Chapter 8 and the reappearance of the First! Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Crazy how it feels tonight_

_Crazy how you make it alright, love_

_You crush me with the things you do_

_I do for you anything, too_

_Sitting, smoking, feeling high_

_In this moment it feels so right_

-Dave Matthews Band, "Crush"

One of the things Buffy liked about working at the high school was having lunch with Dawn. It gave them some much needed "sister time" together, and it allowed Dawn to spill anything that might be bothering her at the time. Currently, what was bothering her was love. Specifically, her friend Janice's torrid love affair with a senior boy. According to Dawn, they'd already broken up numerous times and were now back together yet again.

"I just don't understand it," the teen huffed in frustration, "Why would someone keep going back to a guy they don't even like?"

"That's a good question," Buffy murmured. They were sitting outside on the bleachers while the football team were going through practice; not that either of them was interested in the football team. They were just taking advantage of the sunny day.

Buffy picked up her soda can and took a long sip through the straw.

"Is sitting there drinking soda some kind of a zen non-answer?" Dawn asked.

Buffy smiled and pushed her sunglasses up so she could meet her sister's eyes. "Look, I really don't have a simple answer for you. Love can be...complicated."

Dawn let her head fall back in exasperation. "I mean, none of it makes sense," she decried, "Not just Janice and that tool she's seeing, but _any _of it. I mean, first Spike says he'll kill you, then he's suddenly all in love with you. And then you say Spike disgusts you, and now you two are doin' it like bunnies. Xander stood Anya up at the altar, and now he says he still wants her? It's all so crazy."

Sensing that this conversation was in danger of spinning out of control, Buffy checked her watch and declared, "Oh, I should really get back. You coming with?"

"I just don't see why people bother," Dawn continued while her sister picked up her purse and got ready to return to the counselor's office, "I-I mean, you put all this energy into chasing and having and brooding, and I just don't understand these relationships where you all do insane things."

Buffy patted the girl affectionately on the shoulder. "Bye, rant girl."

Dawn barely even noticed the woman's departure, too caught up in her rambling, "Well, you could, like, paint a beautiful mural on every ugly wall in the world, and then you could paint a beautiful mural on every ugly mural in the wor—"

The girl froze mid-rant as her gaze fixed on one of the football players. He was a tall, blonde guy with nice cheekbones and perfect hair. He'd finished with practice and put his letter jacket on, and now he was taking a drink from his water bottle, dousing his face with some of the liquid to help cool off. Dawn's eyes were riveted on him the entire time he followed his teammates off the field. So caught up in the bewitching sight of him, she didn't notice she was leaning in his direction until she slipped off the edge of the bleachers and fell to the ground with a startled yelp.

* * *

Buffy noticed that Dawn seemed preoccupied with something when they got home that evening. Dawn spent at least an hour up in the attic rummaging through boxes, only to hide away in her room until Buffy finally managed to drag her downstairs for dinner.

The next day, Dawn returned home from school in tears. The teen burst through the front door and dashed upstairs to lock herself in the bathroom. Her loud sobs could be heard even from downstairs.

"What's up with her?" Xander asked, having stopped by the house for an evening of movies and takeout.

Worried, Buffy went upstairs to find out what was wrong. It took some cajoling, and a lot of fits and starts, but she managed to piece together what happened between bouts of wailing. Dawn had apparently developed a strong crush on a boy on the football team sometime between yesterday and now, and had tried to get his attention by trying out for the cheerleading squad. A plan which had apparently backfired, since Dawn had absolutely zero experience in cheerleading.

"Come on, Dawnie," Buffy coaxed for what felt like the hundredth time, "Come out. Dawn, sweetheart, it's not that bad."

_Hallelujah_, she thought as the bathroom door swung open. Dawn glared at her through puffy, reddened eyes, her cheeks gleaming with tears. "How would you even know?" the girl snapped, "RJ's never gonna notice me now."

Buffy shrugged. "From what you said, I'm sure he already noticed you. I mean, with the falling and the...spirit! Spirit!" she hastily blurted, too late to stop the door from slamming shut again. "He—They said you were spirited, right?"

"Go away!"

"Dawn," Buffy sighed. She glanced to her left as movement heralded the arrival of Xander and Spike. Spike leaned against the wall to the right of the bathroom door while Xander hovered behind Buffy's left shoulder.

"Things a lot better, I see," the carpenter remarked.

"I don't think tonight's gonna be good for videos, Xand," Buffy said apologetically.

"Right, with the wailing and the crying. Still better than a cozy evening by my lonesome. Shall I order a pizza?" he offered, "Don't teens in a snit like pizza?"

The door flew open and revealed a righteously indignant teen. "It is _not_ a snit! I-I finally met him—the guy of my dreams, okay—and I blew it," her eyes widened in horror, "RJ hates me now."

Buffy frowned as she noticed a pile of fabric on the bathroom floor behind the girl. "Dawn, what is that?"

"Just the end of my life!" Dawn stormed past her and headed straight for her room.

"Remember when she used to have a crush on me?" Xander reminisced, "I miss the much cuter me crush."

Buffy entered the bathroom and knelt down to examine the pile of rags Dawn had left behind. "She tore up my cheerleader uniform!"

"I don't believe it," Spike glared at her accusingly, "You had a cheerleader uniform and didn't tell me?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. She gathered up the remains of the uniform and carried it with her to Dawn's room, Spike and Xander trailing after her. Luckily, the door had been left open this time. Dawn lay facedown on her bed.

"You shredded my outfit."

"I'll buy you a new one," Dawn muttered.

"It's not the point. I don't want a new cheerleading out fit."

"Well, let's not be hasty, luv," Spike broke in. Buffy threw him an exasperated look, then shoved the ruined uniform into his hands. When her back was turned, Spike immediately foisted the garment off on Xander, who scowled, but kept quiet for the sake of Buffy's comforting Dawn.

The blonde sat on the edge of the bed and touched her sister's shoulder. "Dawn, I'm sorry that you feel so bad. But in the morning it won't seem so terrible. You don't even know this RJ. Not really."

Dawn sat up to face her. Her expression was completely sincere. "I do know him. I know his soul."

Spike rolled his eyes.

"Really? Dawn, he wasn't even on your radar yesterday," Buffy pointed out.

"It's the jacket," Xander's odd statement drew everyone's attention to him, "It's true! Something about the big letter on the chest. Makes girls get all swoony and crushy. I saw it all the time in school. You couldn't just pin any old felt letter to your coat and get play. Not that I tried." He grinned nervously. Something in Spike's grin told him he'd just given the vampire plenty of new fodder for future mockery. Dammit.

"It isn't a crush," Dawn insisted, "It's love. I love RJ."

"Again, since yesterday," Buffy argued as gently as she could, "Dawn, it's awfully fast."

"What, you telling me I don't feel what I feel?"

"No, of course not," Buffy shook her head, "I believe that you think it's real. It seems real to you."

Spike winced. Buffy had said as much to him back in his stalking days. He knew Buffy meant well, but the words still came off as condescending. Spike wasn't surprised by Dawn's reaction.

"Know what?" the girl scoffed, "Maybe I don't want advice from the dysfunction queen. You have no idea how I feel. You have no idea what real love is. Maybe if you did you wouldn't make fun of me this way."

Buffy drew back, hurt by the teen's harsh words. "Dawn, I'm not making fun of you."

"Just go. Leave me alone." With that, Dawn threw herself down on the bed again, ignoring her older sister.

Realizing there was no point in further talk at this time, Buffy stood and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

"Dawnster's really got it bad," Xander remarked.

Spike threw a sympathetic arm around Buffy's shoulders. As they all made their way back downstairs, Buffy sighed in regret and said, "I sounded so patronizing. How did that happen? I mean, I'm not that much older than her. I should remember what it was like!"

"Honestly, I don't think there's anything you could say to make her feel better," Spike replied.

"For once, I agree with Captain Peroxide," Xander said, earning himself a dirty look from the vampire, "Dawn just needs to cry the heartache out 'til the next guy she crushes on comes along."

"Right," Buffy muttered, hating the fact that there was nothing she could do to ease her sister's pain.

* * *

The next day Principal Wood asked Buffy to stop by his office. When she got there, she was surprised to find Dawn already there. Apparently, the girl had been talking to one of the football players and he took a nasty spill down some stairs. He would recover, but his injuries would prevent him from playing for a while. What really troubled Buffy was the fact that the guy accused Dawn of pushing him. There was no evidence, just a he said/she said situation that couldn't be proven one way or the other. Dawn didn't act guilty, so Buffy was inclined to believe her. Until Wood mentioned that he'd have to call Coach Wheeler and tell him the bad news about his starting quarterback.

"At least he's still got RJ to take over," Dawn offered just a touch too eagerly. Buffy's neck prickled in suspicion, which only made her feel guilty for thinking her baby sis could be somehow responsible for the accident.

Her ambivalence stayed with her the rest of the day and into the evening when she and her friends all met up at The Bronze for a rare night out. She, Spike, Xander, Willow, and Tara were all collected around one of the club's larger tables, enjoying the first of what they hoped would be many rounds of drinks. Spike's hand stroked the back of Buffy's neck, soothing away the tension he felt in her. Buffy gradually started to relax and she nodded along to the live band's music.

One of the figures out on the dance floor caught her eye. Buffy straightened in her chair, staring intently at a tall young man wearing a letter jacket. "I think that's the guy," she declared.

The others followed her gaze.

"What guy?" Tara asked.

"The one who, according to Dawn, is the, quote, 'smartest, funniest, coolest, hottest, and having-the-thickest-boy-eyelashes boy in school,' unquote," Buffy answered in a wry voice.

Spike was decidedly unimpressed. "Looks like every other pretty-boy jock. Dawn could at least be more original."

"Check out the fan club." Willow indicated RJ's dance partner, a scantily-clad girl with curled brunette hair. Her suggestive dancing left little to the imagination.

Xander leered. "Daddy like."

Buffy uttered a derisive snort, "What's that shirt made of? Paint? Glad Dawnie isn't here to see her precious boyfriend getting all thrusty with some slutbag hussy—"

The girl turned around, giving all of them a clear view of her face. Five sets of jaws fell open at the sight of Dawn grinding away with the quarterback.

"Bloody hell..." Spike gaped.

"Oh. Oh, no!" Xander stammered in horror, "I wasn't— When I was lookin', I wasn't— Oh, god..."

Willow leaned over and muttered to him, "Right there with ya."

As soon as Dawn stepped off the dance floor, Buffy went to confront her. Even over the noise of the crowd, Spike's enhanced ears picked up the ensuing argument between the two sisters. It was pretty bad. It was like Dawn had suddenly reverted to her bratty phase, only with extra cattyness. When Buffy refused to let her back onto the dance floor, Dawn angrily snatched up her jacket and stormed out of the club.

Spike sighed, downed the rest of his drink, and went to join Buffy as she made to follow the girl. Wouldn't do to have Dawn stumble across some opportunistic vamps while walking home in a snit.

As soon as they exited the building, they discovered Dawn rolling around on the ground with another girl, screeching and pulling each other's hair. Buffy and Spike hurried to separate the girls. Buffy grabbed Dawn, while Spike grabbed the other girl.

"Okay, first with the lap dance, now with the catfight," an exasperated Buffy sighed, "Hey, wanna get drunk and barf next?"

Dawn struggled in her sister's grip. "Let go of me! This isn't finished."

The other girl yelled, "I'll never let you have him, bitch!" She viciously kicked Spike's leg, making him release her with a loud curse. "RJ is mine! I mean it, stay away from him!"

"Bloody hell! Crazy bint got me with the pointy toe!" Spike hopped in pain.

Buffy looked at her sister. "Well, at least someone agrees you shouldn't be dating this guy."

* * *

Needless to say, Dawn was grounded for her behavior. But she was only half the problem. Buffy was determined to confront the other half at work the next day.

"I'm gonna make sure RJ doesn't come anywhere near Dawn from now on," Buffy stated with determination as she and Spike got ready for bed.

The vampire smirked, watching Buffy change into her nightgown while he sat propped against the headboard. "Sorry I won't be there to see you run that pup off with his tail between his legs."

Buffy threw him a cheeky smile. "Well, at least you can tune in," she said, sending him a mental nudge through the link, "Feel me getting all righteous and then satisfied when I send that little player packing."

Spike chuckled, imagining the whole scenario. The boy would underestimate the petite blonde, think she was weak and easy, and then Buffy would lay down the law and the boy would learn she was not a woman to trifle with.

When Spike "listened in" on the link the next day, things seemed to play out the way he expected, at first. He experienced Buffy's anger towards the boy, her anticipation at taking him down a peg. But then something weird happened. There was a sort of a skip, like an old-fashioned record needle slipping a groove, then the link was awash in sexual arousal so intense it damn near made Spike's knees give out. _What the hell?_

This wasn't a natural emotion. The link crackled with magic, making the hairs on the back of Spike's neck stand on end. Rage boiled up in him; that sodding pup used a love spell on his Slayer!

Spike grabbed the phone and stabbed the buttons, nearly breaking them in his ire. He called Willow and Tara on their cell phones and told them about Buffy's condition. The witches skipped their afternoon classes and rushed home. Much to Spike's annoyance, Willow had also brought Xander and Anya along for some reason. Damned if he knew what good they could do in this situation.

The second Buffy and Dawn got home, Spike and the Scoobies cornered them.

"Buffy," Spike said through gritted teeth, "do be specific and let a fella know what the bloody hell happened today with the boy."

Buffy drew herself up. "RJ's not a boy. He's a strong, brilliant, sensitive man, and I adore him with every breath in my body."

"Whoa..." Xander breathed.

Dawn gaped at her sister in betrayal. "What! Y-You can't! _I_ love RJ! Besides, you've already got Spike," she pointed at the vampire.

Buffy laid a hand over her heart. "My love is bottomless, Dawnie. I can have more than one soulmate."

"Oh, for god's sake!" Spike exploded, "It's a sodding love spell!"

Buffy turned her wide eyes to her sister. "You hear that? You're under a spell. Oh, poor little Dawnie."

"But we're working on it," Willow hastened to assure anyone before Spike could yell anymore, "It'll be better soon."

Anya nodded agreement. "Yes. Soon neither one of you will be in love with this boy."

Both sisters stared at her, aghast. "He's not a boy," Buffy repeated, while at the same time Dawn cried, "What do you know about our love? It's true and real. This isn't magic, this is my _heart._"

"Look, I kn-know this feels terrible," Tara said, gently guiding them to the couch, "but it isn't real. Try to hold on to that."

"Did you hear that?" Buffy asked the teen, "It isn't real. You're just crazy."

"It is so real!" Dawn exclaimed, "I love him. You knew how I felt—like I'd finally found something—and you betrayed me."

The woman blinked in surprise, "I betrayed you? You're the one that constructed this elaborate fantasy about you and my lover. Did you want me to tell you that he's in love with me? That your little crush is hopeless?"

"He's not your soddin' lover!" Spike snapped.

"It's not a crush!" Dawn's voice approached a shriek.

"Okay, guys," Xander tried to step in, "Time out! Let's, uh, take a few minutes to simmer down."

"You're not supposed to do this!" Dawn accused, ignoring Xander's attempt to mediate.

"Why? Because he's younger than me?" Buffy countered, "Y'know, I'm extremely youthful and peppy!"

"No. 'Cause you were the one I trusted." Dawn shouldered past her and ran up the stairs. The door to her room slammed a moment later.

It was beginning to sink in for Buffy that things had gotten out of hand. "Dawn, wait!" she hurried after the girl.

Spike remained where he was, fists clenched in impotent rage. The others wisely edged away from him.

"So!" Xander clapped his hands, "Let's get to work so we can cure these crazy little lust puppies."

"Love spells," Anya tsked, "People forget how dangerous they can be."

"Hey, been there," Xander smiled, reminiscing, "Good times."

While Xander, Anya, and Tara researched love spells and counter-love spells, Willow got out her trusty laptop to find some poop on RJ. Buffy trotted downstairs a moment later. "She's locked her door. That spell has her good and loopy."

"Here's something," Willow spoke up, "Info on one RJ Brooks."

Buffy rushed to her side. "Ooh! Let me see! Is there a picture?"

Xander, leaning over the redhead's shoulder, shook his head. "Family stuff. Hey, I knew his brother. He was a big jock at Sunnydale High, too. A couple of years ahead of us. He used to stick chewing gum in my hair."

"Great. So you two got history." Spike snatched up his duster and put it on. "Let's go."

Xander blinked in surprise. "Uh..." Seeing the determined scowl on the vampire's face, he decided it was best not to argue. "Sure, lemme just get my jacket."

As soon as the two men were gone, Buffy turned to Willow with an eager smile and said, "Now look for a picture."

* * *

As they approached Lance Brooks's the address, which they'd gotten from Willow's computer, Xander warned Spike, "I'm just sayin', we're—we're tangling with a powerful spell here. And we don't know what the deal is, so keep an eye out if this guy looks twitchy. And don't let this guy charm you, either. He had everyone around him practically kissing his ring back in high school."

Xander rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a pudgy guy with splotchy skin, wearing a pizza delivery uniform. "Yeah?"

Spike quirked a sardonic eyebrow at the astonished carpenter.

Once Xander made the introductions, Lance invited them inside. It was clear the man was still living with his mother; the furniture was outdated floral print and there were doilies and cheesy knickknacks everywhere. Lance got them each a beer and he and Xander engaged in some tiresome small talk that Spike barely managed to get through without cracking.

"Construction, huh? That's awesome. So, what's up with RJ? How's he doin' at the old alpha mater?"

Spike stifled a groan. _That's _alma_ mater, you twit._

"Uh, good," Xander answered awkwardly, "It's just...I know a girl that might be goin' out with him, and I was wondering—"

Brooks held up a hand, "Got it. You wanna know if he's a good guy. Truth is, he's the best. Followin' in my footsteps."

While he nattered on, Spike got up from the floral couch and wandered over to a set of shelves sporting little angel figurines and family photos. He grimaced and turned the hideous figurines so they faced away from him, then scrutinized the pictures.

"You might not know it now, lookin' at me with a couple extra pounds, but back then, I was quite the guy," Lance declared, almost smug-sounding.

"Yeah. I gather that RJ is pretty popular, too," Xander fished.

"I gotta tell ya, there was a time I was worried about RJ," Lance ruefully shook his head, "Used to be all into comic books, Model UN, geek stuff. No offense, Harris. One time, I found all this poetry under his bed. Turns out, he wrote it. Then he, uh—what do you call it—blossomed! That's what it was like."

Before Xander could ask his next question, Spike suddenly said, "You're wearing your brother's jacket. Here in this picture."

Brooks turned his head to look at the photos Spike pointed at, both of them featuring the brothers in heroic football poses, like matching bookends. "Oh, no, dude. He's wearin' _mine_. That jacket was with me all the way through high school," he grinned, "Gave it to him when I graduated. Right before I started over at the Pizza Barn. I'm in the management program."

Spike's and Xander's eyes met in mutual suspicion. "So, Lance, where did _you_ get the jacket?" Xander asked.

"Oh, Dad gave it to me," he answered carelessly, "Made a big deal about it, too. How he met Mom wearin' that jacket. She was a former Miss Arkansas. Very hot in her day."

"Wow! That's wonderful," Xander jumped to his feet. They'd definitely heard enough; no way could that be mere coincidence. Not in their bizarre world. "Boy, it's gettin' late."

Brooks straightened in his seat, realizing his company was about to abandon him. "Hey, you guys don't have to take off if you don't want to. I-I got sort of a rumpus room set up in the basement. There's air hockey and a mini-fridge. We could party."

An older woman's voice called out from another part of the house, "Lance, do you have guests down there? There's little boxes of raisins if you want snacks."

Spike and Xander immediately headed for the door. "We really gotta go."

* * *

"Holy crap. And I thought _my_ life was sad," Xander declared on the drive back.

"Makes you feel all smug and superior, don't it?" Spike said.

The carpenter grinned, "Oh yeah."

"Reminds me of this one ponce I knew, back when I was human," Spike mused, "Used to make fun of my poetry. Said he'd rather have a railroad spike through his head than listen to another verse."

"Mm-hmm," Xander nodded, sensing where this was headed, "And, uh, what happened to him?"

The vampire shrugged, "After I was turned, I tracked him down and drove a railroad spike through his head." He grinned. "Good times."

Xander took a moment to absorb that gruesome aside. "So...you wrote poetry, huh? Any good?"

Spike scoffed, "God, no! I was bloody awful."

Disaster had struck while they were gone. They returned to the house to find everyone except Willow and Tara was gone. The witches seemed to be fighting over a bunch of crystals.

"I can't let you do this!" Tara cried.

"Give them to me!" Willow shouted.

The guys hurried over to break up the fight. "What the hell are you doing?" Xander cried.

"Proving I love RJ the most," Willow retorted, much to her friend's dismay.

Tara hurried to explain, "RJ came by. He w-wanted to see Buffy, b-but Willow and Anya answered the door instead."

Spike groaned, guessing the rest, "And they fell under the bugger's love spell."

"It's not a spell," Willow denied, "I love RJ, and he's completely devoted to me."

"Wil, honey," Xander explained patiently, "RJ's a guy."

"Well, I did notice that, yeah," she huffed, "That's why I wanna do my spell. 'Cause, y'know, he doesn't have to be. Now gimme my stuff. I don't have much time."

"Much time for what?"

"Buffy and Anya and Dawn are all out trying to prove they love RJ the most," Tara answered.

Spike frowned, "And how are they gonna do that, exactly?"

"Well," Willow said, "Buffy's gonna kill Principal Wood—"

"Fine, okay!" Xander interrupted, "Let's start there."

Tara hastily gathered up everything she needed for a locator spell, then they all piled into Xander's car. "I-It'll take a while for me to set the spell up," Tara said.

"I can track Buffy," Spike said. His brow furrowed in concentration, then he began directing Xander to where he sensed Buffy was going. Looked like the principal was in the habit of working late; Buffy was headed for the high school.

"Merciful Zeus!" Xander exclaimed when they reached the school's parking lot. Buffy was standing on the lawn, pointing a rocket launcher towards the lit window of Principal Woods's office.

"Where the hell did she get that?" Spike wondered.

"There's a military armory in town," Xander explained, "We've, uh, borrowed stuff from them before."

Seeing that time was of the essence, Spike opened the passenger door and leapt from the still-moving car. He ran at vampire speed across the lawn and tackled the Slayer before she had a chance to set off the rocket launcher. Wrestling the weapon from her, he started running back towards the waiting car, Buffy hot on his heels.

"Spike, bring that back! I need it!"

Xander had parked the car. He and Willow stood beside it while Tara sat on the ground with a map in front of her. A magically-induced light glowed on the map's surface, indicating the next spell-struck girl they needed to find.

"What are you guys doing?" Buffy asked, momentarily distracted.

"Locator spell. Human variety," Tara replied, "Almost done."

"I've got a principal to kill," Buffy stated, impatient, "What's going on? Who are we looking for?"

"Dawn," Xander told her. He frowned at the little moving light. "Looks like she's headed for the railroad tracks."

"Why would she go there?" Willow asked.

Spike and Buffy felt the same sense of dread come over them. Knowing how prone the teen was to dramatic gestures... "We'd better hurry," Buffy said, getting into the car without a moment's hesitation.

They almost didn't get there in time. Even with her Slayer speed and agility, Buffy only rescued Dawn from a grisly death by the skin of her teeth. "This is a plan?" she shouted at the girl over the roar of the passing train, "You're gonna steal RJ by being trisected?"

"What, am I gonna compete with you?" Dawn retorted, "You're older and hotter and have sex that's rough and kill people! I don't have any of that stuff. But if I did this, then his whole life he'd know there was someone that loved him so much they'd give up their life. And it would be true...forever."

Buffy stared at the girl, horrified. "Dawn, no guy's worth your life. Not ever."

"RJ is. And don't say he isn't. Look what you were willing to do."

"Dawn, I would give him to you in a second if I could," Buffy declared, meaning every word, "That's how much you're scaring me."

Dawn looked at her, uncertain. "But I—I thought you wanted him...for you."

Buffy wrinkled her nose, shook her head. "Nah. Well...yeah. My god, that boy is hot." She shook herself. "Sorry. I think I might be under a spell, here."

The teen smiled. "I hear ya."

* * *

They used Tara's locator spell to find out where RJ was, then Xander and Spike went to get what they needed. They found the boy walking downtown with a pretty girl whose foot was in a cast. Luckily, he was wearing the letter jacket.

The two men crept up on the young couple, hiding around the corner from them behind a storefront.

"Now, you're sure you understand the plan?" Xander whispered to the vampire beside him.

Spike rolled his eyes. "I think I got it, yeah. 'S not like we're plottin' the sodding invasion of Normandy," he grumbled.

Xander counted to three and they rushed out of hiding. Xander grabbed the startled boy and held him while Spike yanked the jacket off him, then the two of them ran off into the night, leaving the confused and irate teen behind. The victorious pair returned to the house where Spike immediately shoved the jacket into the already lit fireplace. As the garment caught fire, Spike felt the spell's hold on Buffy fade.

"That, my friends, is the smell of sweet, sweet victory," a satisfied Xander proclaimed.

"Also burning cotton-poly blend," Anya added. She had returned home a few minutes after the rest of them, looking slightly winded, but otherwise unharmed. The former vengeance demon shook her head in disgust. "This tool gets this jacket from his brother, who got it from their father, and we'll never know where _he_ got it. That bites."

Xander cheerily quipped, "Welcome to the Hellmouth, where even outerwear isn't safe."

Dawn slumped in the couch, remorse etched on her youthful features. Buffy went to sit beside her. "You okay, Dawnie?"

"I'm just so... The way I acted. The way I talked to you... I feel so stupid. All over a spell."

"Get ready to feel even stupider when it's not, Bit," Spike told her with a rueful grin, "Speakin' from ample experience, here."

The girl smiled at him. "Worked out for you, though."

"It'll work out for you, too," Buffy said, reaching out to grip her boyfriend's hand. "You just need to give it time."

Dawn didn't look all that convinced, but she put on a brave face.

"Hey, Anya," Willow addressed her best friend's ex, "You never told us what you 'can't believe you almost...'"

Anya frowned in feigned confusion. "Who, now?"

"No, you can't be the only not-embarrassed one," the redhead insisted, "What did you do?"

Anya thought fast. "I, uh, wrote a poem. An epic poem comparing him to a daisy, a tower, and a lake."

At that moment, the song playing on the radio ended and a news blurb came up, _"And now the latest on Sunnydale's late-night bandit, who is still at large. A masked thief held up a number of—"_

Anya quickly switched the radio off. "Okay. Great. Ice cream! My treat?" She grinned.

If anyone had any suspicions, they thought it best to keep them to themselves.

* * *

Spike lay in bed, wondering what was keeping Buffy so long. He'd felt an undercurrent of excitement from her and knew she was holding something back. It frustrated him a little, but at least she wasn't feeling guilty anymore. For the last few days, the link had fairly vibrated with her constant, silent apologies to him. Didn't matter how many times he told her there was nothing to forgive, since she'd been under the influence of a spell. She still felt guilty.

But now there was something else, and it drove Spike crazy trying to figure it out.

He sensed Buffy's approach and tensed in anticipation.

"Close your eyes," her muffled voice ordered from outside the door. Sighing in impatience, Spike did as he was told. He heard the door open and shut, then Buffy said, "Okay. Open them."

His eyes opened, then almost bugged out at the sight before him. A grinning Buffy stood at the foot of the bed dressed in a skimpy cheerleader outfit. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her midriff exposed, and she was holding pompoms in both hands.

"Well? What d'you think?" She bounced on the balls of her feet.

Spike's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally found his voice. "I think you are the best bloody girlfriend ever."

Beaming, Buffy waved her pompoms and executed a high-kick, giving Spike a tantalizing glimpse of the string thong she wore under the microskirt. "Give me an S! Give me a P! Give me an I—aiee!" Buffy squeaked as Spike suddenly grabbed her around the waist and dragged her onto the bed. "Spike!" she laughed, "You didn't let me finish my cheer."

"So, finish it," he leered, reaching under the skirt and tearing away the filmy underwear.

Buffy giggled. "Gimme a K. Gimme an E. What's that spell? Ohh..." Her head rolled back as Spike's head disappeared beneath her skirt. She reached for him, forgetting that she was still gripping the pompoms. They rustled as they brushed against his bare shoulders. "Go team," she moaned.

Spike laughed in delight.


	8. Chapter 8:Conversations With Dead People

**A/N:** This chapter really had me stumped. I went through a couple of false starts before I finally came up with what's written here. The next chapter will be better. And _longer_, I swear!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I crawled out of the world_

_And you said I shouldn't stay_

_I crawled out of the world_

_Can I make it right_

_Can I spend the night_

_Alone_

-Angie Hart, "Blue"

November 12, 2002

8:01p.m.

The Bronze

Spike sat alone at the bar, listening to the live band and working his way through a bottle of Jack Daniels. It was his night off from patrolling, and he was bored. He was starting to consider blowing off the whole take-the-night-off-and-relax thing when a woman with short blonde hair approached with a cigarette in her hand. "Got a light?"

The vampire smirked, "People still use that line?"

"It's not a line," the woman's lips quirked in a flirtatious smile, "Unless you want it to be."

"Sorry, pet. Already spoken for."

The woman sat herself down on the empty stool beside him. "If you're spoken for, how come you're drinking alone?"

He shrugged, "'Fraid my lady has to work tonight."

* * *

November 12, 2002

8:01p.m.

Sunnydale Cemetery

Buffy hated patrolling alone. It used to be no big deal, but ever since Spike started patrolling with her, it just wasn't that enjoyable alone anymore. She checked the link for probably the fifth time so far and was perversely glad to sense Spike's boredom. It just wouldn't be fair for the vampire to be having the time of his unlife while she was just slogging by. She was starting to consider calling it a night early when she came across a fresh grave. As she knelt down to examine the loose soil for signs of disturbance, a hand suddenly burst out of the ground.

"Here we go."

* * *

Spike accepted a cigarette from the pack the woman held out to him and got out his trusty Zippo. He lit the woman's cigarette first, then his. Always the gentleman.

The woman blew a tendril of smoke above their heads, then turned to him with a look of frank curiosity. "So, you're from England?"

"What gave me away?" he drawled.

The woman chuckled. "Mind if I ask what brings you all the way to Sunnydale?"

Spike tapped the ash off his cigarette into the small ashtray on the bar. "Came about a girl."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yep." She didn't need to know that he originally came to town with the intent to kill Buffy.

"Lucky girl," the woman declared, "I don't think any of the guys I've dated would've uprooted their lives to come after me. 'Specially not to a place like this."

"Oh, I don't know," Spike shrugged, "'S not too bad here. Night life gets pretty exciting."

She uttered a delicate snort of disbelief. "Seriously? This town's a graveyard."

_My point exactly_, he thought with a grin. After a thoughtful pause, he held his free hand out to her. "Name's Spike."

Smiling, the woman reached for his hand when her arm accidentally bumped his whiskey glass, spilling its contents across the bar, some of it dribbling onto Spike's jeans. "Oh, god! I'm so sorry!"

Grimacing, Spike grabbed a wad of napkins and dabbed at his pant leg. "Good thing I wear black," he muttered, "Doesn't show any stains."

"I'll keep an eye on your seat if you wanna go to the restroom and clean up," the woman offered.

"Yeah. Thanks." He got up from the bar stool and made his way to the men's room. When he returned a few minutes later, he found a newly filled glass waiting for him.

"I ordered you another," the woman said, apologetic, "Sorry again about the whole knocking stuff over. Sometimes I'm kind of a klutz when I'm nervous."

Spike gave her a puzzled look as he resumed his seat. "What've you got to be nervous about?"

"Are you kidding? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

He barely managed to keep a straight face. "Not so much."

The woman leaned towards him as if sharing a secret. "Well, for your information, you are drop-dead gorgeous."

Spike chuckled, his ego bolstered by the praise. "Well, you're not exactly hard on the eyes, either, pet."

He picked up his glass and took a generous sip.

* * *

The fledgeling was a bit tougher than most. Apparently, the guy had some tae kwon do training before he was turned. Buffy found it kind of annoying that martial arts were so popular in Sunnydale, although it did tend to make new vamps overconfident, and therefore stupid. The smart ones always ran. They usually got staked anyway, but at least they knew they weren't up for taking her on.

After about ten minutes of vigorous fighting, Buffy finally staked the vampire. Brushing the dust off herself, she glanced at the name on the tombstone: Holden Webster. Sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe they went to high school together.

"Nice work," an eerily familiar voice commented, "Although you could have finished him in half the time if you weren't so eager to show off your abilities."

Buffy turned to find herself confronting a portly, balding man sporting a thick mustache. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in shock. "Merrick?"

The man who'd been her first Watcher quirked a sardonic eyebrow. "You don't look all that pleased to see me."

"S-Sorry," Buffy stammered, "It's just been a while. Also you're _dead_."

"I'm aware of that," Merrick stated bluntly, "I was there, after all."

"So, how the hell are you here now?"

"I've been sent," the Watcher declared, "by the Powers That Be. I'm here to give you a warning."

Buffy frowned. "What kind of warning?"

The apparition took a step closer, his feet not making a sound. His brow was furrowed in a serious frown Buffy remembered so well from when he was alive. "While you're out here patrolling the graveyards, a master vampire has been killing and siring people throughout the town and hiding the bodies so you won't find them before they've turned. He is slowly building an army against you."

A mixture of anger and dread rose up in her. "I never heard anything about a new master vamp in town."

Merrick gave her a pitying look. "He's not new, Buffy. He has been here for quite some time."

"What? Who?"

Again, that look of pity, which only made her want to punch his ghostly face. "You know him, Buffy," Merrick stated cooly, "It is William the Bloody."

* * *

"Should at least walk you home," Spike offered, "Not a good idea for a woman to walk the streets alone at night."

The woman smiled. "And they say chivalry is dead." She tossed a couple of bills onto the bar and stood up, shouldering her purse. "Sure your girlfriend wouldn't mind?"

"Escortin' a lady safely home? That'll probably earn me some brownie points, as a matter of fact." Spike grinned and followed the woman out the door. The streets were relatively quiet this time of night, everyone either inside the various drinking establishments or staying at home. Spike shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he and the woman strolled side by side.

"It's not that far," she told him, "I usually go this way. It takes a little longer, but it's quieter."

Spike let her lead the way down a lonely side street that was little more than a poorly lit alley. In his predatory days, he would have picked such a street to wait for easy prey to come along. Prey like the woman beside him, who, now that he thought about it, still hadn't given her name. Spike gave a mental shrug; not like he planned on seeing her again.

They neared an intersection when two figures stepped out from behind a building, blocking their path. They were tall, burly men that exuded an air of menace. One of them raised his hand and metal gleamed in the faint light of a distant streetlamp.

"Give us your wallet and your bag," the second figure ordered.

The woman gasped at the sight of the gun. Spike just rolled his eyes. His nostrils flared as he took in their scent. Humans. Bugger! Not much he could do against them with the bloody chip in his head. Still, it wasn't as if he could pass up the chance to play the big damn hero. "Tell you what," he countered, swaggering closer to the wary muggers, "Why don't you two blokes shove off, and I'll let you keep all your bits and pieces."

The muggers gawked at him, then started laughing, incredulous. Spike grinned in response, bracing himself for the brawl to come. Behind him, the woman touched a medallion she wore around her neck and whispered something that sounded like a prayer.

* * *

"You're—Whuh—" Buffy was speechless. She didn't even know where to begin with how wrong Merrick's statement was. "That's impossible," she finally blurted, "Spike wouldn't do that. He couldn't even if he wanted to! The chip—"

"Ah, yes," Merrick sneered, "The notorious chip the government implanted in his brain."

"Yes," Buffy nodded emphatically, "He can't bite people anymore."

"And you're certain this chip still works?"

Buffy gaped at him. "Of course it still works! What, you're telling me he's been faking it?"

"Think, Buffy," the Watcher reasoned, "When was the last time you saw him so much as shove a human out of his way?"

Buffy's frown deepened as her mind raced.

"So, how can you be certain the chip is still functional?" Merrick continued.

"Spike is _not_ feeding on humans," she insisted, "I'd know."

"Would you?"

"Yes! We have a connection." She yanked the collar of her shirt down, exposing the Claim mark. "I can feel what he feels. He couldn't hide something like that from me."

"So, those times when you are not together, when you sense his elation and the thrill of violence, you know for a fact that he is merely fighting other demons?"

Buffy gritted her teeth, fighting the twinge of doubt his words brought. "This is crazy. I don't believe—I don't believe you." She glared at the apparition. "I mean, how do I even know you're really the ghost of Merrick? You could be some kinda shape-shifter thingie, o-or a hallucination. Maybe I'm dreaming!"

Merrick reached out and swiped at a nearby tombstone. His hand passed through the solid granite as if it wasn't there. "This proves I am not a shape-shifting demon," he said, "Now I will prove I am not a hallucination, either. Come with me." He turned and walked away.

Buffy was tempted to go in the opposite direction, but morbid curiosity won out. Growling under her breath, she tromped after the alleged ghost. They ended up leaving the cemetery behind. Merrick took them down a series of empty side streets, turning seemingly random corners until they reached an intersection faintly lit by streetlamps too far away to do anything but deepen the shadows.

Something stirred, and Buffy's eyes widened as she realized it was a man sprawled on the ground. She ran over and knelt beside him. There was a ragged wound on his neck; an unmistakeable vamp bite. Not much blood, though. This guy was almost completely drained.

"What happened?" she asked, hoping the man would last long enough to answer her, "Did you see who did this to you?"

"Man," the victim rasped, "Took my friend."

Buffy glanced to her left, saw a patch of blood on the pavement. A second victim, carried off by their attacker. "What did he look like?" she urged, "The guy who attacked you?"

The man struggled to get the words out, fighting grogginess and the encroaching darkness. "White hair...Brit..."

An icy finger slid along her spine. "B-Brit? The guy h-had an accent? An English accent?"

"Girl..."

"What?" Buffy leaned over him, almost pressing her ear to his weakly moving lips.

"Girl...with him..."

She swallowed painfully. "Did he hurt her, too? Did he hurt the girl?"

No answer. When she drew back, Buffy saw the man's eyes were glassy. She pressed her fingers to the carotid on his unbitten side and felt no pulse. She sat back on her heels. "He's dead."

Merrick stood over her, his expression one of sympathy. "I am sorry you had to find out this way, Buffy. But your judgment is clouded when it comes to Spike."

"It can't be him." Buffy desperately searched the link, but all she picked up from the vampire was a sense of calm, almost boredom.

"Ask him," Merrick calmly challenged, "Ask him where he was tonight, what he did. He will not be able to give you a satisfactory answer."

Spike was never very good at lying. Buffy swallowed a painful lump in her throat. When she looked up a moment later, Merrick was gone.

* * *

Spike dragged the corpse into the basement of a house whose owner hadn't been seen by the neighbors in weeks. The basement was more of a root cellar, with an earthen floor instead of concrete. Much of this earth was loosely packed, as if it had been recently disturbed. Spike picked up a shovel that leaned against a nearby wall and started digging.

* * *

"You don't know hurt. Everything that's happened to you before is gonna seem like cake compared to what I'm going to put you and your friends through, and I am not a fan of easy death. Fact is, the whole good versus evil, balancing the scales thing? I'm over it. I'm done with the mortal coil. But believe me, I'm going for a big finish."

Willow stared in horror at the creature that had taken the form of Cassie, the precognitive girl who recently died. "'From beneath you, it devours.'"

The thing that wasn't Cassie flashed a sinister smile. "Oh, not _it_. Me."

Her grin widened to grotesque proportions, splitting her face open, turning her entire self inside out, until she winked from existence. Willow was left alone in the university library, trembling from the gruesome image and the even more horrific threat this unknown enemy had made.


	9. Chapter 9: Sleeper

**A/N:** Told ya this one would be longer. :-D This particular episode was a pretty grim one. I hope you like my ideas for this AU version. Had to think up a way for the First to control Spike since it never got the chance to brainwash him in the school basement. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Because everybody knows_

_That's how I nearly fell_

_Trading clothes_

_And ringing Pavlov's bell_

_History shows_

_There's not a chance in hell_

-Aimee Mann, "Pavlov's Bell"

Buffy searched everywhere for Spike, but for some reason, she wasn't able to pinpoint his location like she usually could. All she picked up from Spike through the link was the same mild sense of calm, almost like he was half asleep. Sunrise was only a couple of hours away when she finally decided to go home. With any luck, Spike was already there.

The second she opened the front door, Buffy was confronted by the devastation that was once the living room. Horrified, she dashed into the house. "Dawn!"

Tara came hurrying down the stairs, one hand held up to forestall anymore yelling. "Buffy, it's okay. She's n-not hurt, just exhausted."

Buffy sagged against the nearest wall in relief. "Where's Willow? What the hell happened?"

"Willow's upstairs," the witched replied, "I finally got her to sleep." Her brow was furrowed in worry, putting Buffy on edge again. "Buffy, th-this big evil that's been promising to devour us? Well, I-I think it's started chomping."

"Oh, god. And it started with Dawn?" Buffy berated herself for not coming home sooner.

"And Willow, and me," Tara's more pronounced stammer revealed her agitation, "Buffy, this thing knows us. I-It made us think that we were talking to people we knew. M-Mine looked like my mother, and I don't kn-know who Willow saw. But Dawn a-actually saw...J-Joyce."

Buffy's fists clenched. How dare this thing wear her mother's face!

"This thing, it had me for a while," Tara continued, "I m-mean, before it started letting loose with the pulse-pounding terror, before that the lies were very convincing. I-It just seems real."

"Lies?" Buffy latched on to that word. If this Big Bad had been telling her sister and her friends lies, then this so-called ghost of Merrick must have lied to her as well.

"Maybe to confuse us," Tara speculated, "O-Or maybe just to be cruel."

"The thing that came for me...it told me that Spike was killing people."

The witch frowned. "W-Well, that's impossible. Right? S-So maybe it was another one. A fake-out."

"It has to be," Buffy said with all the conviction she could muster, "Spike would never—"

The front door opened and Spike entered. His eyes widened at the sight of the wrecked living room. "Bloody hell. What happened here?"

Buffy motioned to Tara; the witch took the hint and went back upstairs. "Dawn had a visit from the new Big Bad," Buffy said, "She's fine. She's sleeping upstairs." She pursed her lips. "Spike...did you see anything last night? Did anyone—someone you knew—visit you?"

The peroxided vampire shook his head. "No. Didn't go to any of the demon bars. I was at The Bronze for a while."

"Whatever this thing is," Buffy told him, "it seems to take the form of people we knew. Me, Willow, Tara, and Dawn all saw it as different people. The one that came to me...he told me something I don't wanna believe. More than that, he _showed_ me something."

Spike frowned, concerned by the anxiety he felt from her. "What?"

Instead of answering, she seemed to change the subject. "Spike, did you meet anyone last night? Not just somebody you knew, but anyone?"

"Uh," he shrugged, puzzled by the question, "Sure, I might've talked to a few people. Nothin' serious. Why?"

"It's just...someone told me he saw a guy, sounded a lot like you, and he had a girl with him."

The vampire scoffed, the link rippled with amused exasperation. "What? You think I was seein' some other bird on the side?"

"No—"

"There was no girl, Buffy. There's only you." Everything about his voice and face said he was sincere, and Buffy didn't sense any lies from him.

She forced her shoulders to relax, pushed whatever lingering doubt she had to the back of her mind. "Sorry. This thing, it's got me all turned around."

Spike peered into the destroyed living room. "Guess that's the idea." He approached and drew her into a comforting hug. "You okay, luv?"

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. She wished she sounded as confident as she sounded.

They cleaned up the disaster area as best they could. Some of the furniture wasn't salvageable, and the windows needed to be replaced. Willow, Tara, and Dawn joined in on the cleanup effort after a while, then Xander came by to take measurements for the replacement windows.

Throughout it all, Buffy's mind kept wandering back to the night before, her inability to track Spike through the link. Did he find some way to block her? If so, why? There were two nights a week when they didn't patrol together: his night off and her night off. Two nights when she really had no idea where Spike went or what he did.

_How many people can a vampire turn in one night?_

Buffy felt sickened by the thought, not to mention guilty for having even the slightest doubt in Spike. She trusted him more than anyone. So why was she having these misgivings?

"I think we should patrol together tonight," she suggested later that afternoon while they were taking a break from the cleanup.

Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "You sure skippin' your night off is a good idea, luv?"

"That thing is out there playing head-games with us—"

"All the more reason to carry on as usual," he reasoned, "Don't let it see that it's getting to us."

Was he saying this because he meant it, or because he wanted her out of the way? Buffy's stomach roiled.

Sensing her conflicting emotions, but not the real reason behind them, Spike reached over and took her hands in his. "I'll be fine, luv. I'll be extra vigilant; any trouble at all, I'll call for you. Alright?"

Buffy chewed her lip, then finally nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"You want me to do _what?_" Willow blurted a couple of hours later. The redhead was sitting at the dining table with her laptop, doing some research online for a class.

Buffy glanced at the stairs; Spike was in their room, getting some rest before heading out on patrol. She turned to her friend and said, "I want you to check for any increase in bodies found with neck trauma."

Willow's brow furrowed. "Um, okay. A-Any reason why? I mean, did you hear of some new vamp in town lookin' to make itself a gang?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I need proof that what that fake ghost told me wasn't true. I mean, I know that thing was just lying—"

"Maybe."

Buffy frowned. "What? What maybe?"

Willow was obviously reluctant to answer. "Well, just because those weren't the spirits of, you know, our people...just because it was some evil thing...doesn't mean that what they said can't be true."

Buffy pursed her lips into a thin line. "We can't assume anything. We need hard facts."

"Okay." Willow's fingers flew over the computer keys. Moments later, she scrutinized what she'd found. "No, there's not really an increase in neck injuries. But..."

"But what?" Buffy asked with a growing sense of dread.

"Missing people," Willow's troubled gaze met hers, "Eight, maybe? Oh, ten of them. No bodies. They're just missing. Mostly young, lots of girls."

Buffy paced the floor, her arms crossed. After a moment she murmured, "This still doesn't prove that it's Spike."

"Doesn't prove that it _isn't_," Willow pointed out. She watched her friend deep in thought, then finally asked, "What're you gonna do?"

"Only thing I can do."

The sound of footsteps drew her attention to the stairs, where Spike was descending. He walked over to Buffy and gently gripped her by the waist. "I'm gonna start patrol. Don't worry, luv," he smiled in reassurance, "I can handle any baddies that come along."

Buffy managed to dredge up a smile, then kissed him and said, "Have a good patrol."

Smiling, the vampire released her and stepped out the door into the night. Buffy waited a few minutes, turned to Willow to tell her, "I'm going to follow him. If I'm not back by morning..."

Willow swallowed, nodded.

Buffy forced her emotions to remain calm as she followed Spike at a safe distance. At first, it looked like he was heading for the closest cemetery, just like he would on any normal patrol. But after a moment, he paused as if lost in thought, then abruptly veered off and headed for downtown. Buffy struggled to keep her feelings in check as she followed him through the bustling promenade, tried not to think about how Spike scanned the crowd with a predatory air. She saw him approach a woman who was waiting in line to get into The Bronze. The two of them started talking way too intimately for Buffy's liking. The strange thing was, despite Spike's flirtatious behavior, she didn't pick up even a hint of arousal through the link. He was still perfectly calm, even a little bored.

What the hell was he up to?

Spike took the smiling woman's hand and led her away from the club. Buffy tried to keep them in sight, but the bustling throng of partygoers was too thick to easily maneuver through. She cursed as she lost track of the pair. She tried to get a fix on Spike through the link, but was once again stymied for some unknown reason. At one point, she thought she might have heard a distant scream, but wasn't able to figure out where it came from, or if she really heard it to begin with.

Gritting her teeth, Buffy headed for home. She had no choice but to wait for Spike's return and confront him then.

* * *

Spike returned from patrol to find Buffy waiting in the entryway with a mug in her hand. She held the mug out to him. "I heated you some blood."

He smiled at the gesture. "Thanks, luv, but I'm not really hungry right now."

Buffy's expression was stony, which confused him. Spike tried to get a feel through the link only to discover she was keeping a tight rein on her emotions. She thrust the mug under his nose. "C'mon, just a sip."

Spike recoiled from the stench that rose from its contents. "I, uh, think it's gone off."

Buffy set the mug on a nearby side table. "You're right. You haven't touched any of the blood in the fridge for a while. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw you drink any blood."

Spike frowned. Now that Buffy pointed this out to him, he couldn't remember the last time he fed, either. But he must have. He didn't feel any cravings.

"I followed you," Buffy's voice jarred him back to the present, "And you know what? You didn't go to any cemeteries."

"What?" Spike's shock seemed genuine.

"You were on the promenade," Buffy's voice betrayed her anxiety, "You looked like you were on the prowl."

"That's not...That can't be right," his protest sounded weak even to him.

"So then, tell me," Buffy pleaded, "Tell me what happened. You—You went out on patrol, then what?"

"I..." Spike wracked his brain, but couldn't bring up anything from the hours he'd been out. "I don't remember. It all bleeds together."

Buffy sensed his confusion and fear. He really didn't know what happened. This frightened her even more than the prospect that he might have been lying to her. She touched his arm, "Spike. What about last night? You were at The Bronze?"

He nodded.

"What happened then? Can you remember anything? Anything at all?"

Spike shook his head, "N-No, I—"

"Was there a girl?" Buffy thought about what the dying man she found last night had told her. "A man I found yesterday was dying from a vampire attack. He told me what the vampire l-looked like," her voice faltered for a second, "And he said there was a girl, but there wasn't any sign of her. Do you remember meeting a girl last night?"

Spike scowled in concentration. He remembered The Bronze, sitting at the bar drinking whiskey, then... "She asked me for a light," he murmured, eyes unfocused, "Gave me one of her cigarettes."

"What else?" Buffy prompted, "Do you remember what she looked like?"

"Blonde hair," he said quietly, "'Bout your age. I dunno."

Buffy took his hand and pulled him towards the door. "Come on. We're going to The Bronze. Maybe somebody there remembers seeing you with her. Maybe get a name, if we're lucky."

The live band was in full swing on the stage. People swayed to the music on the dance floor or nodded their heads from their seats at the tables scattered throughout the club. Spike and Buffy approached the bar to talk to the bartender.

"She had blonde hair," Spike said, "A nice lookin' girl. I was here talkin' with her."

The bartender shook his head. He saw a lot of customers on a nightly basis and rarely found them memorable enough to recall later. The couple started approaching other people in the club in the vain hope that one of them might remember Spike and the girl.

"The other night," Buffy said to a curly-haired girl who she vaguely recognized from other nights spent at The Bronze, "We're looking for someone who might've seen her."

The girl shook her head. "No, sorry."

Spike sighed in frustration. "Maybe we should split up, cover more ground."

Buffy couldn't hide the distrust in the look she gave him. It hurt, but Spike couldn't blame her; he didn't entirely trust himself, either. "I'll keep in sight, I promise."

Buffy chewed her lip, then sighed and nodded, "Okay. I'll check the balcony. You stay down here."

"Alright." Spike watched her ascend the steps to the balcony level, then slumped into an empty chair in a relatively sheltered corner and glared at the milling crowed.

"One of them take your wallet?"

Spike blinked at the unfamiliar woman standing beside him. "What's that?"

"The way you're scanning that crowd, you look like you're out for blood."

"I'm just looking for a certain bird I met here the other night."

The woman offered a flirtatious smile. "Is it me?"

The vampire smirked. The woman was the complete opposite of the girl he was searching for; black hair, dark skin. "Sorry, pet. Don't think so."

Not taking the hint, the woman leaned over him, her hand stroking his shoulder. "Not even if I ask nice? Or are you the type that has to be convinced?" she purred.

Spike fought the urge to shove the persistent tart away. "Friendly warning, pet. I'm the type best left alone."

The woman let out a sultry chuckle, "Oh. I get it. You'd rather I slip into something more comfortable."

Spike felt it then; something he should have noticed sooner if he hadn't been so preoccupied. His gaze jerked to the woman's face and he recoiled at the yellow eyes and bared fangs. The vampire woman laughed at his reaction. So far, no one else noticed her transformation. Buffy did, though. Spike felt her alarm and knew she was hurrying down from the balcony.

"Should we pick off the crowd one by one?" the vampire woman suggested, "Or block the exits and ravish the place?"

"Get away from me," Spike growled, rising from his chair and backing up. As he'd hoped, the vampire followed. He was leading her to one of the rooms normally reserved for private celebrations. Fortunately, it was empty now.

The woman scoffed, "What's with the wallflower act? You didn't seem so shy when you were _biting_ _me_."

Spike tensed, his mind whirling from her words.

"I'm not asking if you wanna be soulmates," she continued, "Just figured you'd wanna have some fun."

Spike shook his head in desperate denial. "No. You're lying!"

His fist lashed out and knocked the younger vamp to the floor. She glared up at him. "Was that all I was to you? A one-bite stand?"

She leapt to her feet and came at him. Buffy chose that moment to burst into the room, stake in hand. Before the startled vampire could react, Spike grabbed her and held her still while Buffy drove the stake through the vamp's chest. The vampire woman screeched as she disintegrated.

Spike numbly stared down at the pile of dust at his feet. "She said I sired her."

Buffy looked at him, apprehensive. "Do you remember her?"

He slowly shook her head. "Never seen her before," but he didn't sound very convinced.

Buffy put away the stake, then reached for his arm. "Come on. We still gotta find that girl."

As soon as they stepped back into the main part of the club, Spike froze. "I see her."

"Where?" Buffy looked where he pointed and saw a young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair sipping a margarita at the bar. She gaped when the woman turned her head just enough to make out her features. "Oh, my god."

"You know her?" Spike asked, surprised.

Buffy nodded, wide-eyed. "It's Amy."

"Amy?" Spike frowned, "As in the former rat Amy?"

Buffy's expression hardened. She marched over to the blonde and grabbed her by the shoulder, almost yanking her off the bar stool when she forced her to turn around.

"Buffy!" Amy smiled in what appeared to be genuine delight, "What're you doing here? I haven't seen you in—"

"Cut the crap, Amy," Buffy snapped, "What'd you do?"

"Do?" the witch blinked, then noticed Spike standing behind the Slayer. A slow grin spread across her face. "Well, hello again. Don't tell me Buffy's the lucky girlfriend you were talking about."

"You remember talkin' to me."

"Sure," Amy's grin turned flirtatious, "You're a memorable guy."

"Care to tell us what happened?" Buffy asked, an edge in her voice, "Seems Spike's having trouble remembering last night."

"Really? Huh," Amy quirked an eyebrow at the vampire, "Didn't think you had _that_ much to drink."

"He's been forgetting a lot of nights," Buffy interjected, "And I'm starting to think you had something to do with it." Her grip tightened on the blonde's shoulder. Amy winced.

"Look, we just talked," the witch said, "Spike was a perfect gentleman. He even offered to walk me home."

"Then what?" Spike pressed.

Amy shrugged. "Nothing. We said our goodbyes and my front door and you went on your merry way."

"That's it?" Buffy asked, "Nothing else happened? No run-ins with, say, a couple of muggers?"

Amy pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head, "Mmm, nope." Her response was less than convincing.

Buffy's smile was even less convincing. "Tell you what," she jerked the other woman to her feet, "Why don't you show us the way you guys took to get to your house. Maybe it'll jog Spike's memory."

"Sure," Amy smiled, all innocent helpfulness, "Not a problem."

The couple watched in suspicion as she settled her bar tab and shouldered her purse. They followed her out of The Bronze and let her lead them down the same route she and Spike had taken the other night. As they neared the area where Buffy had found the dying man, the tension thickened. There were a couple of dark stains on the pavement; the only reminder of what had happened. Amy gazed at them in mild curiosity. "Funny," she said airily, "I would've expected a lot more blood. But then, Spike did drink a lot."

Buffy froze, fists clenched at her sides. "So, you did have something to do with this."

Amy chuckled, the fingers of her right hand playing with the medallion she wore around her neck. "Oh, Buffy. I had _everything_ to do with this. And a lot more." She began to mutter words in an unfamiliar language.

Buffy knew witches and funny languages always meant trouble. She was about to lay in on Amy when a blow to the back of her head sent her sprawling on the ground. Dazed, she rolled onto her back and stared up at her assailant. "Spike..."

The vampire's face was expressionless. With lightning speed, he kicked out, his boot connecting with the Slayer's head before she could react. The last thing she saw before everything went back was Amy's smug grin and Spike's cold, violet gaze.

* * *

Amy looked contritely at the being before her. It had chosen to wear the form of Spike this time. His handsome features were creased with annoyance. "There's an order," it said coolly, "The Slayer's not in order."

"It's not my fault," Amy insisted, though not aggressively, "Buffy got suspicious and tracked me down."

Not-Spike's scowl deepened. When it went to Buffy as Merrick, it hadn't intended for her to come looking for the witch. It had only wanted to sow doubt between her and her vampire lover. Obviously, it underestimated the depth of their bond.

"Well," it sighed philosophically, "it can't hurt to play. Get your claws in the mouse, you know?" The First smirked.

Eager, Amy reached for her medallion and recited the chant. Her gaze went to the door leading to the basement of the house she and Not-Spike were standing in. When she looked back, she discovered the First had disappeared. Probably wanted to get a front row seat for what was about to take place. Amy grinned, "Enjoy the show."

_Moments earlier..._

Buffy groaned as consciousness returned. Her head throbbed. She managed to sit up and cradled her head in her hands for a few seconds, then looked up to take in her surroundings. She was sitting on an earthen floor in what looked like some kind of basement. There were old shelves and various items scattered around, tools and typical basement clutter. Spike sat a short distance from her, back to the wall, hugging his knees. Buffy slowly got to her feet, her wary gaze never leaving him. "Spike?"

"I've been remembering," he said, a faint tremor in his voice, "The girl, the one you saw with me on the promenade...I think I killed her. And I think I—I think I killed the lady who lived here. And...And there might be others."

Buffy stared at him, horrified. "Oh, my god."

Spike stood, his movements slow so as not to alarm her. He walked to a certain spot and pointed at the floor. "Here. I-I think I buried them here."

"Spike," Buffy croaked, _"Why?"_

"Well, I don't know, do I?" he cried, finally losing what little control he had, "I don't even know how! I shouldn't be able—" He froze suddenly, emotion draining from his expression, while Buffy felt that same, eerie calm settle over the link. She watched in alarm as Spike's eyes changed from their usual bright blue to an unnatural violet.

A noise dragged her attention downward and she saw several pairs of hands burst through the packed dirt of the floor. Spike's victims were waking.

Unseen by the Slayer, the First sat on the basement stairs and smiled in anticipation. "And it's just about to get fun."

Half a dozen fledgelings emerged from the ground and attacked. Buffy fought them, but they managed to overwhelm her with their numbers. Two of them grabbed her by the arms and held her between them, facing Spike.

The First murmured in Spike's ear, "You know what I want you to do. They're waiting for you. Take her. Taste her. Make her weak."

Spike glanced at his doppelganger, then closed the distance between him and the trapped Slayer.

Buffy struggled against the vampires' hold. "Spike, listen to me," she pleaded, "You don't wanna do this!"

She threw her emotions at him through the link, but that strange calm didn't falter. He was like a sleepwalker. Spike slipped into gameface, his violet eyes gazing intently at her vulnerable neck. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, baring her throat to him. Buffy stifled a whimper as Spike leaned in. His fangs pierced the left side of her neck, opposite to her Claim mark.

When the first gush of blood hit his tongue, Spike was suddenly assaulted by a wave of images; memories of attacking, killing, feeding. Sometimes taking two or three victims in a night. All within the last few weeks.

Spike reared back with a gasp, his face once again human. The violet faded from his terrified eyes. He staggered back, fell to the floor. "I...I remember."

Buffy kicked out at the vampires restraining her, knocking them away. Free, she grabbed a shovel leaning against a nearby wall and used it to strike away the attacking vamps. The blade end of the shovel snapped away, leaving her with a crude wooden spear. Buffy jabbed out with the splintered end, dusting one fledgeling after another in quick succession. Just when she thought she'd gotten them all, she saw another vamp clawing its way out of the floor. She hurried over and pulled it the rest of the way out so she could get to its heart. She saw that it was the old woman who'd once lived in this house. "Sorry, ma'am," she apologized, stabbing the creature with the makeshift spear, "But it's my job."

The First shook its head in disappointment. It had hoped to weaken the Slayer so that she wouldn't be a threat to its plans. But now she would be on her guard. Cutting its losses, the First left the basement and ordered Amy to get away while she could.

Buffy tossed aside the weapon and crouched before the distraught vampire, cradling his face in her hands. "It's okay," she soothed, "It'll be okay. We'll figure out how Amy controlled you and stop her from ever doing it again."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut. The guilt he felt from all the deaths he'd caused threatened to overwhelm him. Buffy tried to get him to look at her. "Spike, this isn't your fault."

"No," he tried to pull away from her, "I've killed, and I can feel 'em. I can feel every one of 'em."

Tears stung Buffy's eyes. She ran her fingers through his white-blonde hair, pressed her forehead to his. "This isn't just Amy," she voiced her suspicion, "There's something playing with us. All of us."

Hearing this, Spike opened his eyes. The anguish in them almost made Buffy weep. "What is it?" he asked, helpless, "Why is it doin' this to me?"

"I don't know. But it's not gonna get away with it." Buffy rose, her face set in determination, and pulled Spike to his feet. "We'll figure out what's doing this," she stated with conviction, "Then we'll make it regret ever coming after us."

Clutching each other tightly, the couple made their way up the basement stairs.


	10. Chapter 10: Never Leave Me

**A/N:** Here's a pet peeve of mine on this show: Vampires are strong. Buffy is strong. Like, Incredible Hulk strong. Yet again and again, they get trussed up in ordinary, everyday rope, and we're expected to believe they can't break loose from it? Gimme a break! Might as well be using dental floss to restrain them. :-P

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Early one morning_

_Just as the sun was shining_

_I heard a maid sing_

_In the valley below_

_Oh, don't deceive me_

_Oh, never leave me_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?_

-English Folk Song, "Early One Morning"

Spike sat passively in a chair in their bedroom while Buffy tied his wrists to the arms of the chair. They both knew this was a temporary measure, at best; if Spike was strong enough to punch through concrete and bend steel bars, some rope and a wooden chair wouldn't do much to hold him. But until Xander finished installing the chains in the basement, this would have to do.

"We're gonna get to the bottom of this," Buffy said, trying to distract herself from anxiety and the guilt of having to tie up her boyfriend,"We just can't take any chances."

"Don't," Spike interrupted, his tone gentle, but firm, "Make it tighter. The knots will give."

Buffy stared at him, hesitant.

"I get free, someone's gonna die," Spike insisted.

Buffy chewed her lip and reluctantly did as she was told, tightening the cords of rope until Spike's fingers went numb. "Just 'til we figure out how Amy's been controlling you," she muttered.

"It's not just that," Spike told her, "Been feeding off humans for a while. Comin' off that's like...an addict quittin' cold turkey."

Buffy's brow wrinkled in concern. "A-Are you gonna be okay?"

The vampire snorted. "It's not gonna be pleasant, that's for sure." He'd been through it before, after he escaped the Initiative and discovered he could no longer harm humans. He wasn't looking forward to reliving the experience.

Buffy got up from kneeling on the floor and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm gonna call Giles. See if he's got any ideas what the latest Big Bad might be. Maybe he'll even know how Amy's been controlling you."

Spike nodded, his eyes cast downward. Buffy left the bedroom and went downstairs to use the phone. Twenty minutes later, she was about ready to give up. She'd tried every one of Giles's phone numbers, even the ones he hadn't used in some time, and no answer. It was like he fell off the planet. There was only one option left.

"Can't believe I'm doing this," she grumbled, dialing the hated number. Once her call was answered, she was put through a lot of rigamarole—several transfers and long minutes on hold listening to crappy muzak—before she finally heard the familiar, supercilious voice.

_"Ms. Summers,"_ Quentin Travers greeted insincerely,_ "How can I be of assistance?"_

"It's Giles," she replied, "I need to find him as soon as possible. He's not answering any of his numbers."

_"Ms. Summers, the Watchers Council does not keep track of our lapsed employees. Ever since Mr. Giles pulled up his stake in Sunnydale, we've not made it our business to follow his every move."_

Buffy gritted her teeth, "You don't need to get all British and dodgy, Mr. Travers. I know you have ways of finding him."

_"Well,"_ Travers sighed, _"I suppose, if you feel the matter is urgent, we could look into it."_

"I'd appreciate it," she bit out, "Thank you."

_"Not at all. Good day."_

Buffy carefully placed the receiver in the cradle so as not to hurl the entire phone against the wall in frustration, then returned upstairs to her and Spike's bedroom. As she got closer to the door, she realized not all the agitation she felt was her own; Spike was starting to feel the effects of blood withdrawal. Buffy entered the room and saw him twitching in his chair. His forehead gleamed with sweat and his breathing was ragged. Buffy reached out to comfort him and he flinched away.

"Can I do something?" she asked, hoping he'd say yes. She hated watching him suffer like this.

Spike shook his head. "I think you should probably g—" he broke off, hunching over in pain.

Buffy took a step towards him, then jumped back when he raised his head and snarled at her, his features fully vamped. At first, she thought he might have been under Amy's control again, but his eyes were normal yellow. The link screamed with hunger and desperation. The ropes groaned in protest as Spike struggled against the urge to tear free and attack the nearest warm body. Buffy took a breath and closed the distance between them, her movements slow and cautious. She tried to send out soothing thoughts through the link. "Easy. It's okay."

A low growl reverberated from the vampire's throat. When she was close enough, Buffy extended her left wrist towards him. "Go on. It'll help, right?"

For a moment, he strained towards the offered wrist, but then he managed to regain a shred of control and turned his head away. "No," he rasped.

"Spike, it's okay."

"I won't...be able to stop," he forced out, squeezing his eyes shut, "Please... Just go..."

Buffy pulled her arm back and reluctantly headed for the door. "I'll be right outside," she said, but Spike's momentary lucidity was already gone. He growled and bared his fangs at her until she shut the door between them. Buffy leaned against the doorjamb, eyes closed in weariness.

"Buffy?"

She opened her eyes to see Willow approaching. Buffy mustered a smile.

"How's it going?" the redhead asked.

Buffy exhaled, "He's been feasting on humans for weeks. He's having some pretty bad withdrawals. I think we need to get him some blood."

"D'you want me to kill Anya?" Willow (mostly) joked.

Buffy pretended to consider it. "No. We should probably try to wean him off humans. He'll have to make do with animal blood."

"I can go get some," Willow offered, then grimaced, "I have to get out of the house. Xander's installing the new windows and he keeps giving lectures on proper tool maintenance. Not my thing."

Buffy smiled in gratitude. "Thank you."

"How you doin' in there?"

"He's in pretty bad shape," Buffy replied.

The redhead's expression was sympathetic. "I wasn't asking about him."

Buffy managed to keep up a brave front. "I'll be okay."

Willow hugged her. "He'll be alright," she reassured her, "Tara and Dawn are still researching different mind-control spells, trying to find anything that causes violet eyes. It shouldn't take 'em long to find it."

"Good. The sooner they find it, the sooner we can stop it," Buffy's eyes narrowed in anger, "Hopefully hurting Amy in the process."

"I still can't believe Amy would do something like this," Willow shook her head, eyes wide, "I mean, I know she was way into the dark magics, like I used to be, but I never thought she'd do something this..."

"Evil?"

The redhead nodded. "Guess you don't really know how low a person can get."

There was a pained cry from inside the bedroom. Both women winced at the sound.

"I-I'd better get that blood," Willow stammered and hastily left for the butcher shop. Buffy continued to lean against the door, fighting back tears as she felt her lover's suffering.

* * *

"Well, I got those chains installed," Xander said a short while later. Buffy had come downstairs to check on everyone's progress. Dawn and Tara were still trying to narrow down which mind-control spell Spike was under. They were sitting together on the couch, surrounded by books. Behind them, the newly installed replacement windows blazed with late afternoon sunlight.

"Does this mean we're locking Spike in the basement now?" Anya asked, pausing in her efforts to clean up the last of the mess in the living room.

Buffy thought about it, then shook her head. "No. We'd better wait 'til Willow gets back with the blood. Spike should be calmer after he feeds and we can move him then."

The front door opened and Willow rushed in; she was not alone. "Look who I found."

"Oh, this can't be good," Xander groaned.

Willow was gripping Andrew, the former Trio member, by the scruff of his neck. The twitchy geek was clutching a paper bag in his arms.

"Guess who was buying mass amounts of blood at the butcher shop?" Willow said.

Buffy scowled at the unexpected prisoner. She so didn't have time for this. "What're you doing back in town?"

Andrew put on an unconvincingly haughty air. "You'll get nothin' out of me, _Slayer_."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "We'll see about that." She turned to Xander. "Feel like doing a little interrogation?"

"Ooh! Can I help?" Anya practically bounced with enthusiasm.

Xander grinned at the anxious looking blonde guy.

While the carpenter and the ex-vengeance demon played good cop/bad cop in Dawn's room, Buffy took the blood they got off Andrew to her room. Spike was still in his gameface and too far gone for rational thought. His nostrils twitched at the smell of the pig's blood. Buffy set the paper bag down on the dresser next to a large bowl she'd taken from the kitchen. She pulled out one of the quart-sized sacks of blood and carried it over to the restrained vampire. There was no need to do anything but hold onto it while Spike's fangs pierced the plastic and he began sucking down the sack's contents. He wound up draining two of the sacks. Buffy placed the empties into the mixing bowl so they wouldn't drip all over the place.

Spike was noticeably calmer when she stepped out to check on Xander's and Anya's status. The two of them were already out in the hall, having apparently decided to give Andrew some time to stew after their initial confrontation.

"What's the status with your guy?" a cheerful Anya asked.

"Getting better. The blood's definitely helping," she replied, "How's your guy?"

Anya's response was both eager and absurdly B-movie cliché, "The weasel wants to sing. He just needs a tune."

"He's primed," Xander agreed, "I'll be pumping him in no time." At the women's looks, he ducked his head in embarrassment and amended, "He'll give us information soon."

Buffy wished them the best of luck and returned to the bedroom. Spike's features had finally returned to human and his discomfort seemed less. Buffy sat beside him, on the edge of the bed. "Better?" At his nod, she reached out and ran a gentle hand through his white-blonde hair. "Good."

Spike closed his eyes, relaxing into her comforting touch. "I don't remember anything," he said quietly.

"Well, you were having pretty bad withdrawals."

"No, not that," he turned his head to meet her gaze, "I don't remember what I did. Just some flashes here and there. It's like I'm watching someone else...do it," he looked away, "Kill people."

"Any ideas when your chip stopped working?" Buffy asked.

The vampire snorted, "Wasn't aware that it had, you know. Not 'til now." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Any word on when Harris'll be done with those chains?"

Buffy pursed her lips, still not liking the thought of chaining him up in the basement like some kind of animal. "He's finished. If you think you can manage—"

She was interrupted by shouts and cries of distress from the next room. It was probably nothing, but Buffy decided to check anyway. "I'll be right back," she told Spike, then left the room.

As the door shut behind her, a figure was revealed. Spike's eyes widened at the sight of his doppelganger.

"Well," the First drawled, "We've got ourselves a problem." It sauntered towards the restrained vampire. "Job half done. Never send a boy to do a man's job," it chuckled, "Lucky we still have you, hmm?"

"Stay away from me," Spike warned, but the faint tremor in his voice gave away his fear.

The First grinned, "Relax. This won't hurt a bit."

Across the street, staring at the Summers house, Amy touched her medallion and recited the activation spell.

* * *

Buffy knew something was wrong. She felt it; Spike's fear, then that unnatural calm. She rushed back into the room and found him sitting with his head down, eyes closed. He looked like he was sleeping.

"Spike?"

With a roar, he suddenly slipped into gameface and broke free of the chair, splintering it in the process. His violet eyes blazed from his demonic features. Buffy ran forward to stop him and his fist smashed into her jaw, knocking her to the floor, stunned. Spike could have finished her then, but instead he ran to the wall separating their room from Dawn's and drove his arms through it. There was a scream, then Spike surged backward, dragging a struggling Andrew through the wall. He sank his fangs into the young man's neck and started to drain him.

Buffy recovered from the blow to the face and leapt up to stop Spike. She grabbed the vampire, tore him away from his victim, and flung him aside. Spike's forehead connected violently with the doorknob and he collapsed to the floor. Andrew fell to his knees, panting and in obvious shock, but alive. Xander and Anya hurried into the room to see to him while Buffy turned her attention to the vampire.

Spike raised his head, his face once again human. His eyes had returned to their natural blue, and were full of confusion. Blood stained his lips. "What..."

"You were being controlled again," Buffy told him.

He stared at her in alarm. Then his expression hardened in resolve. "Knock me out."

Buffy didn't give herself time to hesitate. She lashed out with her foot as hard as she could. Spike's head rocked back from the impact, then he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Xander," Buffy fought to keep her voice steady, "Help me get him to the basement."

Andrew would recover. They tied him back up, mainly to keep him from scratching his bandages, and left him in Dawn's bed. Spike was in the basement, his wrists and ankles shackled to the cement wall with heavy chains. He was lying on an old camping cot they'd dug up from somewhere; Buffy didn't want him lying on the cold floor. It was bad enough that they had to chain him.

Buffy and the Scoobies gathered in the living room. The Slayer was really hoping for some good news.

"I-I think we've figured out how Amy's controlling him," Tara said, much to Buffy's relief. Dawn held up a book showing an illustration of what looked like two circular medallions, each with a violet stone set in the middle.

"They're called Encante's Eyes," the teen explained, "One medallion's worn by the person being controlled, and the other's worn by the person doing the controlling. When they're activated, the victim's eyes turn violet, like Spike's did."

Buffy frowned as she scrutinized the pictures. "Amy was wearing a medallion like that. But I didn't see anything like that on Spike."

"I-It must've been planted on him somewhere," Tara said, "The spell doesn't work unless th-the victim has the second medallion on him."

Buffy felt a mixture of rage and relief. Rage towards Amy for violating Spike this way, and relief that the solution was so simple. All she had to do was find the second medallion and get it away from him. She got to her feet. "Okay, I'm gonna search Spike for this magic doohickey. Meanwhile, you guys keep trying to figure out what the Big Bad is—spirits, ghosts, demons. Check the lot of them. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

While the others got cracking with the books, Buffy collected a few things and went down into the basement. Spike was lying on his side on the cot, dried blood smeared across his lips. Buffy went to kneel beside him and set the items she'd brought down on the floor by her knees. Among them was a bowl of water and a washcloth. She dipped the cloth into the water and began cleaning the blood from Spike's face. His eyes cracked open a moment later.

"Did I hurt anybody?"

Buffy rinsed off the cloth and continued wiping his face. "You took a good bite out of Andrew."

Spike frowned, puzzled. "Who?"

"That blonde guy from the Trio," she explained, "He'll be okay."

Spike's gaze drifted from her. "I don't remember," he said, barely above a whisper.

"It's okay," Buffy said.

"Buffy, I don't know why."

"We think we do," she responded, "There's these medallions. Amy was wearing one. The other's gotta be on you, somewhere."

Spike frowned in thought. "She's been controllin' me for weeks. Not too many places it could be without me noticing."

"I already checked your coat," Buffy told him, "And your boots."

Spike's expression cleared as understanding dawned. He glanced down at the other items Buffy had brought. "Not on me," he murmured, "_In_ me."

Buffy nodded, chewing her lip. "She could've met you at The Bronze or some other bar, maybe slipped something into your drink. Then wiped your memory...after."

"Makes sense." He snorted in derision. "Bloody hell, first the Initiative shoves that sodding chip in my brain, now this."

"It's probably just under the skin," Buffy guessed, hoping she was right.

"And if it isn't?" Spike quirked an eyebrow.

Buffy wasn't able to meet his gaze. If the medallion wasn't under his skin, then it was somewhere deeper. She really didn't think she could bring herself to just cut him open, even if he was unconscious. A touch on her arm drew her attention back to him.

"It's alright, luv," he soothed, "Do whatever you have to."

Buffy took a breath, nodded, then reached for the knife. Instead of removing the shackles, she simply cut away his T-shirt. She then began prodding his exposed skin with her fingertips. She would check every inch of him from his scalp to the soles of his feet. As many times as it took.

She'd reached his shoulders before Spike starting talking. "If you don't find anything—"

"I'll find it," she interrupted.

"If you don't find anything," her persisted, "you have to find a more permanent solution to keeping me from hurting anyone." He moved his right arm, causing the chain's links to rattle. "These aren't enough."

"Well, what else can we do?" she asked, "Drug you? Put you in a cage?"

Spike's eyes were somber. "When I was bein' held by the Initiative, I saw 'em lobotomize one of the other vamps."

Buffy tensed, eyes blazing. "That's _not_ gonna happen."

He sighed, "Buffy, do you have any idea what I'm capable of?"

Buffy returned her gaze to the task at hand. Her probing fingers worked their way down his left arm. "I was in the cellar with you. I saw what you did."

"I'm not talking about the cellar," he stated, deadly serious, "The people in the cellar got off easy. I'm talking about _me._ Buffy, you've never met the real me."

"I've seen your life, remember? Believe me, I'm well aware of what you're capable of."

"No," Spike insisted, "If you were, you wouldn't be hesitating to do whatever it takes. Do you know how much blood you can drink from a girl before she'll die? I do. You see, the trick is to drink just enough...to know how to damage them just enough, so that they'll still cry when you—" He broke off, his control failing for a moment, then said in a less steady voice, "'Cause it's not worth it if they don't cry."

Buffy still didn't look him in the eye. She'd finished checking his left arm and was working on the right. "It's not your fault," she murmured, "You're not the one doing this."

The vampire scoffed, "I already did it. It's already done." He lowered his head, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You want to know what I've done to girls Dawn's age?"

Buffy swallowed.

"This is me, Buffy," Spike told her, "You gotta make sure I don't get out. If it weren't for the Claim, I'd tell you to kill me." But he couldn't let Buffy end her life along with his.

Blinking rapidly, fighting tears, Buffy focused her attention back to her task. As she reached Spike's armpit, she froze. Her fingers pressed into the skin, feeling a hard ridge just under the surface. "Oh, god. I...I think I found it."

Spike stared at her, daring to hope. Buffy picked up the knife again and told him to lift up his arm. Trembling slightly, she cut into the soft flesh of his armpit. Spike winced, but kept perfectly still. A hiss of pain escaped him as Buffy reached into the wound and slowly extracted the quarter-sized disc of metal. She quickly pressed a square of gauze to the wound and taped it in place. Buffy laughed in relief, the tears she'd held back now spilling down her cheeks, "We did it. You're gonna be okay."

Spike grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her into an intense kiss. When they finally drew apart, he panted, "Now get me outta these soddin' chains."

Grinning, Buffy started to comply. That was when the lights suddenly went out and a hooded figure burst through the basement door which led outside. The attacker was wielding a staff and he struck Buffy on the side of her head, knocking her away from Spike. She heard other crashes upstairs and her friends' terrified screams. Buffy fought back, but found herself driven up the stairs until she crashed through the door into the kitchen. She and her opponent fought their way down the hall leading to the front door, where she finally struck the hooded man down with his own staff. She saw a couple of other hooded men running upstairs and chased after them.

Buffy found one of them in Dawn's room about to stab Andrew with a couple of wicked-looking curved knives. The blades whirred in the hooded man's capable hands, and it was all Buffy could do to dodge them. A lucky punch sent the man reeling, but then the second hooded man burst into the room, knives at the ready. Buffy found herself fighting two skilled opponents at opposite sides of her. She saw movement from the corner of her eye and discovered that Andrew had somehow wriggled free of the ropes and was trying to make a break for it. She grabbed the blonde man, swung him first into one of the hooded men, then the other, knocking them off balance. She flung Andrew out of the way, then managed to wrestle the knives from one of the men before he fully recovered. She lashed out with her left arm, impaling the hooded man coming at her from the right. Then the other hooded man charged from her left and she twisted so he fell on the blade in her right hand. Arms now crossed in front of her, she yanked both knives free and watched the bodies fall.

"Buffy!

She turned at the sound of Xander's voice. "Dawn?" she asked, worried for her sister.

"She's okay," Xander was quick to assure her. He stared down at the bodies. "Is this it? I thought there was more of 'em."

Buffy felt the ground fall away from her feet. She frantically checked the link, but all she felt the barely-there sensation of unconsciousness. "Spike!"

She dashed down the stairs, Xander barely able to keep up. When they reached the basement they found the chains dangling empty from the wall, the shackles broken. Buffy stood utterly still. If she moved even a little, her legs would give out and she'd topple to the floor. So she kept still and waited for the terror to give way to sheer rage. Rage was good. Rage was an excellent motivator.

Xander touched her shoulder. "Buffy, I—"

Buffy turned and abruptly ascended back into the house. Startled by her behavior, Xander followed a second later.

"Th-They were so fast," Tara said, her tone slightly dazed from shock, "And organized."

"They were after Spike all along," Buffy stated coldly.

"And we were just in the way," Xander concluded.

Buffy approached one of the bodies and crouched over it, staring at the hooded man's face. Instead of eyes, strange runic symbols were carved into his flesh. "I know these guys. I fought them before," she straightened, turned to address her friends, "We aren't being haunted. This isn't some demon. The ghosts we all saw. 'From beneath us.' It's all the same thing. I know what we're up against." Her hands tightened their grip on the knives she'd taken from the attackers. In a deadly calm voice, she spoke the name of their enemy, "The First."

* * *

Spike woke to darkness. He was underground somewhere. He sensed the Hellmouth was near. He was surrounded by chanting hooded men, tied spread-eagle to some kind of wheel-shaped device. His arms and legs were bound with chains wrapped so tightly he couldn't feel his hands or feet. He was still shirtless, the bandage Buffy had applied to his armpit lost somewhere along the way. Blood seeped from the cut she'd made to extract the medallion.

A figure different from the hooded men approached. Spike tensed when he saw it was his doppelganger. The creature smirked.

"You'll have to excuse the spectacle," it said, "but I've always been a bit of a sucker for the old classics."

One of the hooded men approached a small table that held an intimidating array of sharp implements. The man selected a long, thin blade and approached the restrained vampire.

Spike tried to stay quiet. He really did. But when that blade started slicing into him, the screams just poured out of him, just as the blood poured out of the wounds. The hooded man carved a series of symbols onto Spike's flesh with agonizing slowness. Spike gritted his teeth. He might not be able to hold back the screams, but he'd be damned before he started begging these pillocks for mercy.

"Oh, don't look at me that way," Not-Spike chided, "I wanted to do this more subtle-like. My harbingers have a tendency to call attention to themselves." It pointed an accusing finger at him. "_You're_ the one who couldn't hold his end of the bargain. _You're_ the one who couldn't take care of what's-his-name. And so now, fittingly, _you're_ the one who gets to do the honors."

The hooded man with the knife stepped back, his work apparently done. Two more hooded men grabbed some chains hanging from the ceiling and pulled. Spike found himself lifted from the ground, the wheel he was tied to rising towards the ceiling of the underground chamber. The wheel tilted until Spike was horizontal, hanging face-down. Blood poured from his wounds in thick rivulets, splashing onto something below. It looked like some kind of seal; a five-pointed star with a goat's head in the center. There was something familiar about it, but in his pain-fogged state, Spike was unable to remember.

His doppelganger stepped into view, standing beside the seal. Spike watched as the creature shrank and morphed until it was no longer his double he was looking at, but Buffy's. Somehow, this was so much worse.

"I have to admit," the First said in Buffy's familiar, light-hearted voice, "I'm glad it worked out this way. I was going to bleed Andrew, but you look a lot better with your shirt off." She grinned.

Spike's blood soaked into the seal as if the metal were a sponge. There was a low hum, the seal began to glow.

"To be honest," Not-Buffy continued, "I'm getting a little tired of subtle. I think it's about time we brought some authority to our presence. Now, Spike, you wanna see what a _real_ vampire looks like?"

The corners of the pentacle star folded up into a pyramid shape, then sank into the ground, leaving an opening. From the darkness, something emerged. Clawed hands reached out and dug into the earthen floor, hauling up a nightmarish creature that made what little blood remained in Spike's body run cold. It was a vampire, but unlike any vampire that existed in the world. There was no trace of humanity in this creature. It was pure hunger. Pure malevolence. It was the thing that even vampires feared.

The Turok-Han raised its baleful gaze to the helpless white-blonde hanging above it and let out an ear-splitting roar.


	11. Chapter 11: Bring On the Night

**A/N:** Here's a nice big chappie to tide you all over for the weekend. Thanks for all the reviews thus far. Have a Happy Easter! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_The future is but a question mark_

_Hangs above my head there in the dark_

_Can't see for the brightness_

_Is staring me blind_

_God bid yesterday goodbye_

_Bring on the night_

_I couldn't spend another hour of daylight_

_Bring on the night_

_I couldn't stand another hour of daylight_

-The Police, "Bring On the Night"

Buffy wanted to storm out of the house, track Spike through the Claim, and butcher every one of those eyeless monsters that had dared lay a finger on him. When Spike's pain seared through the link, it was all Buffy could do not to scream. She looked almost catatonic as she sat in Dawn's beanbag chair, curled up into a tight ball. Rage and anguish roiled in her. If she moved, even a little bit, she knew the others wouldn't be able to stop her from rushing to the vampire's rescue, and most likely getting herself killed in the process.

The others tried to draw her out, at first. But then Tara interceded. "Just give her some space," the witch cautioned in her gentle voice, "Sh-She'll get through this, but she needs time."

Reluctantly, the others backed off. They focused their energies on trying to research the First, except for Xander, who was once again clearing up the shattered glass from the recently replaced windows. "It's a loop," he groused, "Like the mummy hand. I'm doomed to replace these windows for all eternity. Maybe we should just board these things up until things are a little less Hellmouthy."

Anya started tossing aside books she'd read through. "Nothing. And nothing. Cliff Notes to nothing. Nothing abridged."

"Yeah, my search isn't turning anything up, either," Willow said, staring at her laptop in disappointment, "Are you sure Buffy said this thing called itself the First?"

"It claimed to be the original evil, the one that came before anything else," Buffy's raw voice startled them; it was the first time she'd said anything since the attack.

Instead of reacting to this as if it were some kind of miracle, Anya merely snorted at Buffy's statement, "Please. How many times have I heard that line in my demon days? 'I'm so rotten they don't even have a word for it. I'm bad. Baddie, bad, bad, bad. Does it make you horny?'" At the others' incredulous looks, she quickly added, "Or terrified. Whatever."

Buffy slowly uncurled her body, sitting up a little straighter, though her gaze remained faraway. "It wasn't a line. When I came up against this thing, I felt it. It was...ancient and enormous. It nearly got Angel to kill himself. And if we don't rescue Spike soon," she faltered, swallowed, "god only knows what the First will do to him."

Xander glanced at Andrew, tied in a chair and unconscious since Buffy had used him as a human bludgeon against the Bringers. "I wish Sleeping Ugly would come to. He's been out all night."

"He was just starting to squeal with the spooky SWAT attacked," Anya sighed in annoyance, "Said the First was at the Seal of Danzar-something."

Dawn got up from the couch and approached the unconscious man. "Maybe he's just faking so he doesn't have to answer any more questions." Her fist lashed out, knocked his head to the side. Getting no reaction, she speculated, "Or maybe he's in a fugue state."

She was about to hit him again when Tara interjected, "Dawn. He'll come to when he comes to. Keep reading." Tara looked towards Buffy. "If we're gonna help Buffy rescue Spike, w-we need to figure out how to fight this thing."

The sulking teen returned to her seat and picked up a book. "Anya gets to hit him," she grumbled.

Buffy let her eyes fall shut for a moment. Her throat was raw with suppressed emotion. She swallowed against the pain.

"Here."

She opened her eyes, saw a glass of water in front of her. She accepted the glass and took a sip from it. The water was cool and soothing. "Thanks."

"No problem. Only wish it could've been the real thing."

Buffy's head jerked towards the unfamiliar voice and her eyes widened at the sight of a young girl crouched beside her, green eyes twinkling with amusement and sympathy.

"Who—Who are you?"

The girl smiled. "Just a friendly observer."

Buffy noticed that the others weren't reacting to this stranger's presence. It was like they didn't see her. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're the First."

"Well," she shrugged, "I'm _a_ First."

"There's more than one?"

"Sure! But I'm not the one you gotta worry about."

The girl placed a hand on Buffy's knee. Strangely, she didn't feel any urge to recoil from the unexpected contact. She looked at the girl's warm smile and felt some of the tension in her chest ease.

"You're doing the right thing," the girl said, "Things are gonna be dangerous enough without you running blindly into the lion's den." Her expression sobered. "It's gonna get worse before it gets better. I'm sorry. I don't wanna scare you, but I want you to take care. You need to wake up."

Buffy frowned in confusion. "What?"

"You're dreaming," Xander's voice cut in, "Buff, wake up."

Buffy jolted awake, blinking away the cobwebs. "Didja see it?" she slurred.

"There's nothing to see," Xander told her, "You were just doin' a little dream talkin', that's all." He stared at her in concern. "You okay? What'd you see?"

Buffy lowered her gaze, her thoughts swirling. "Nothing. It was nothing." She noticed a book on the coffee table and held her hand out towards it. "Hand me _The Watchers Codex._"

Xander passed her the book, and she began to read.

* * *

When Spike regained consciousness again, he was no longer tied to the sacrificial wheel. He was being dragged by the leg across a rough stone floor. His arms were stretched above his head, limp and weak. In the flicker of what appeared to be torchlight, he saw rough-hewn walls and a craggy ceiling. Some kind of underground cave system. When he came to a stop he managed to shakily raise his head and see what had been dragging him. It was the monster that came out of the seal; the Turok-Han. The creature hissed at him.

"Go on. Give him a kick, then," Spike's doppelganger sauntered into view, a cruel smirk on its face, "You always liked that, didn't you?"

The First morphed into the form of Drusilla. "Kick a dolly when he's down. That was always your style."

The Turok-Han raised its foot and viciously stomped on the prostrate vampire. Spike bit back a cry and curled up against the pain. He was pretty sure he'd felt a rib crack.

"Has buckets of energy, poor dear," Not-Dru said, "Been layin' in wait for his moment since before the bug walked." It leaned towards the monster and cooed, "There, there, pet. Soon as the moon comes, you'll have your carnage."

The Turok-Han let out an eager growl.

"Little girls tear so easily, like pink paper," the First grinned, "'Til then, we'll have our way with this one. Got it coming, he does."

Spike tried to brace himself, but when the next blow shattered his ribs, he couldn't hold back his cries.

* * *

Buffy was about ready to let Dawn have at him after all when Andrew finally gasped awake. He stared at her in alarm. "I...I was about to be dead. You saved me."

"For the time being," Buffy's tone was thick with menace, "But if you don't tell us what we need to know, then I'm gonna offer you to the First on a platter and let him chop you into tiny pieces."

"The first what?"

"The name of the evil thing that pretended to be Warren to get you to kill Jonathan," Anya explained with her usual straightforwardness.

"Oh..."

"Where's the seal?" Buffy demanded.

Andrew insisted that he couldn't just give them directions; he had to show them where the seal was. Buffy was more than a little suspicious, but as she, Dawn, Xander, and Andrew wended their way through the maze-like corridors of the school basement, she realized their prisoner might have had a point.

"It's around this corner, I think," Andrew stated for the dozenth time.

"You better be right this time," Buffy warned.

Andrew whined, "I told you, I'm not sure."

"Maybe you should get sure," Xander snapped, "I'm sick of all the runaround with you. Whoa." Everyone froze as they came upon the bare room with its recently unearthed secret. "Check out the goat-heady badness."

Buffy's thoughts whirled; she recognized the seal from Michael Poole's book, from the collection of sketches in the back. "What's it do?" she asked their hostage.

"I don't know. Something not good. It didn't work 'cause there...wasn't enough blood," Andrew finished uncomfortably.

Dawn wandered over to a large wheel-like contraption leaning against the far wall. Dull brownish stains were coated its edges. "There's blood on this," she declared, "Lots. Looks like the First made another sacrifice."

Buffy's heart sank. She remembered the pain emanating from Spike through the link shortly after his abduction. His blood could have been used to activate the Seal of Danzalthar.

A nervous Andrew protested, "That wasn't there before. I had nothing to do with that."

"Thanks for clearing that up," Xander drawled, "'Cause otherwise, we might have thought you were up to no good here with the satanic manhole cover. You killed your best friend!"

Andrew lowered his head like a sulking child. "He's in a place of joy and peace. He told me."

Xander rolled his eyes in impatience. "No, nobody told you. You got tricked by a fake ghost."

Buffy noticed some shovels and picked one up. "We need to cover this thing up. Whatever it does, we can't leave it exposed like this."

The others grabbed up the remaining shovels and helped her scoop the surrounding dirt over the seal. Once that task was done, they headed back the way they'd come.

"So, what next?" Dawn asked quietly, walking alongside her sister, "We found the seal, but no Spike."

Buffy's lips thinned. "I don't know. The First was camped underground last time I found him, but it wasn't really—"

"Buffy?"

Both girls froze at the sudden appearance of Principal Wood carrying a shovel. Apparently, Xander and Andrew had gotten ahead of them, since they were no longer in sight. The principal seemed just as surprised to have run into them. "I thought you were, um..."

"Sick?" Dawn jumped in, referring to the excuse she'd given for Buffy's absence from work, "She was. Oh, vomiting and oozing from various places—"

"Yeah, I remember," Wood chuckled, somewhat uncomfortable, "So, please, don't go on."

Buffy was quick to explain, "Yeah, but I went to see the doctor, and I'm all better now." She frowned at the shovel in the principal's hand. "Um..."

Noticing her puzzled gaze, Wood blurted, "Oh, yeah, uh...apparently somebody left this in the courtyard, and I was just returning it."

"That's some full-service principalling," Buffy wasn't quite able to conceal her suspicion.

Wood smiled thinly. "I try. You know, if you are feeling better, I could really use you back at work."

Buffy wished she could think up a plausible excuse, but lying on the fly was never her strong suit. "Well, I-I'll be there tomorrow. No problem."

"Good." With a smile and a parting nod, Principal Wood continued on his way.

Dawn blew out the breath she'd been holding. "Whew!"

"Yeah." Buffy gazed distrustfully after the retreating principal.

* * *

The dining area was a-bustle with activity. Xander, having tied Andrew to a chair once again, came to stand beside Buffy as she observed the others. "How's it goin'?"

"Dawn's trying to find out anything she can about the Seal of Danzalthar," Buffy replied, "Willow's about to do a locator spell, see if we can find the First."

Xander looked at her in concern. "Why don't you go get some rest? You haven't slept for, like, two days."

"No. I-I couldn't sleep. Too much going on." And if she kept still for too long, her fear and anguish would overwhelm her. Spike was suffering. She felt it, even though he seemed to be blocking out most of it. Every once in a while the link would flare with his agony, and Buffy could all but hear him crying out. If she didn't keep busy, if she didn't focus on other things, she would either collapse in a pathetic, weeping heap or go rushing off to rescue him without any kind of preparation and get herself killed or taken prisoner in the process.

"It'll be okay, Buff," Xander tried to reassure her, "We've faced this kind of stuff before."

Buffy resisted the urge to snort derisively. "You didn't see the First. I did. I felt it. It was—"

An explosion sent everyone sprawling. Hurricane winds buffeted the room. Willow rose from her seat, eyes pitch black, and roared in a deep, unearthly voice, _"You only make me stronger!"_

Tara grabbed the ceremonial bowl that held the smoldering ingredients to the locator spell and smashed it against the wall. The howling wind abruptly died and Willow toppled onto the floor. Buffy and Xander hurried to her side. Tara gently lifted Willow's head onto her lap.

"It's still in me. I feel it," Willow sobbed.

Buffy tried to calm her, "No, it's not. It's gone. You're okay."

"I don't want to hurt anybody," the redhead whimpered, "Please, Buffy, don't let it make me."

"It won't. I promise, we won't use magic to fight this thing until we know what we're doing."

To hell with caution, Buffy decided. She would return to the old Christmas tree lot and see if she could find the entrance to the underground cavern where she'd confronted the First before.

Xander tried to be the voice of reason, "At least let me come with you."

"I'm going alone," she stated firmly.

"You said yourself, you don't know how to fight the First, or even where it is."

Buffy would not be swayed. "It's out there. It's hurting my friends. Hurting _Spike_. I'll find it."

She opened the front door and froze.

"Buffy."

"Giles?" Buffy gasped. The sight of the Watcher brought a deep sense of relief. She was about to embrace him when a girl suddenly barged in, carrying a backpack over her shoulder. "Nice place," the girl spoke in a thick English accent, "Bit of a mess."

A second girl entered, appraised Buffy with a jaded eye. "This is the Slayer? Huh."

A third and final girl followed. She didn't say anything, merely smiled nervously. Giles finally stepped through the door once the girls were all inside. "Sorry to barge in. I'm afraid we have a slight apocalypse."

Buffy stared at him, utterly bewildered.

* * *

The girls were Molly, Kennedy, and Annabelle.

"Potential Slayers," Giles explained, "Waiting for one to be Called. There were many more like them all over the world, but...now there's just a handful. And they're all on their way to Sunnydale."

Buffy remembered her nightmares. Now she understood what they meant. "The others were murdered."

Giles nodded, face grim. "In cold blood. As well as their Watchers. We always feared this day would come, when there'd be an attack against not just an individual Slayer, against the whole line."

That was the First's plan; to destroy the Slayer line and kill off the Watchers.

"And then Faith," Buffy said quietly, "and then me. And with all the Potentials gone and with no way of making another...it's the end. No more Slayer. Ever."

Her friends were horrified by the obvious implications.

"B-But we haven't found any information on the First," Tara said, "No documentation..."

"That's because it predates any written history," Giles retorted, "And it rarely shows its true face. The only record I know was in the Council library."

"What about the Council?" Any asked, "What do they say about this?"

If anything, Giles became even more somber. "Gone. Obliterated. They were in session and, uh, there was an explosion. It must have been an agent of the First."

Even Buffy was shaken by this. The Council gone? She'd only spoken to Quentin Travers a few hours ago. Now he was dead?

"That means all the Council records are—are destroyed?" Willow stammered, appalled.

Giles nodded to the Potential who hadn't said anything yet. "Annabelle."

The girl unzipped her backpack, extracted a thick file folder and a couple of books, and set them all on the coffee table. Willow, Tara, and Anya immediately picked these items up and began to peruse them.

"That's what's left," Giles told them, "The mystic secrets of the Watchers, and whatever I could find on the First. When I learned what was happening, I—I, um...I stole them. The knowledge contained in these files had to be protected, and there wasn't time for—for bureaucracy or debate. The Council knows no other way."

"And it cost them their lives!" Andrew dramatically cried out, startling everyone into remembering that, oh yeah, there was someone else in the room. He flushed in embarrassment at their stares. "Go on."

"Can we gag him?" Buffy asked. Xander all-too-happily leapt to his feet and grabbed a roll of duct tape. While he taped up Andrew's mouth, Buffy turned back to Giles. "But what do these records say about the First?"

"Very little," the Watcher admitted, "It can change form. And, uh, it only appears in the guise of someone who's passed away."

Surprised looks were exchanged. This had to mean the "ghosts" that visited them were actually manifestations of the First.

Giles continued, "Also, it's not corporeal. It can't touch or fight on its own. It only works through those it manipulates and its followers, the Bringers."

"Those freaks in the black robes," Kennedy clarified.

"Yeah, with the hoodies and the crazy alphabet eyes," Molly declared, "I never sawr 'em, I just..."

Annabelle finally spoke, "Shh, Molly. Mr. Giles doesn't need us prattling on."

"The First is unlike anything we've faced before," Giles cautioned, "There's evil, then there's...the thing that created evil. The source."

"And that's what this thing claims to be?" Buffy asked, doubtful.

Giles shook his head. "That's what it _is_. It has eternities to act, endless resources. How to defeat it... Honestly, I don't know," he removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, "But we have to find a way. If the Slayer line is eliminated, then the Hellmouth has no guardian. The balance is destroyed." He put his glasses back on and turned to the petite blonde. "I'm afraid it falls to you, Buffy. Sorry. I mean, we'll do what we can, but...you're the only one who has the strength to protect these girls, and the world, against what's coming."

"But no pressure," Xander quipped.

Kennedy got to her feet. "That's it? That's the plan? I don't see how one person—even a Slayer—could protect us. I saw what those Bringer guys can do. They tore apart my Watcher."

Giles tried to calm her, "Of course, we'll use all our resources."

The girl went on as if he hadn't spoken, "And if this thing is the root of all evil, isn't the Hellmouth its number one vacation spot? I mean, don't you think we should be hiding our asses on the other side of the globe?"

"Kennedy!" Annabelle chastised.

"No," Buffy responded, "She's not wrong. We need more muscle. Which is why we need to find Spike."

"Yeah, he'll help," Anya agreed, "Y'know, if he's not crazy or off killing people or dead. Or, you know, all of the above."

"He's not being controlled anymore," Buffy stated, "I found the medallion and got it away from him right before the Bringers attacked."

Tara straightened, "Wh-Where is it?"

"In the basement somewhere, I guess," Buffy shrugged, "Kinda lost track of it."

The witch turned to her partner, "I-If we can find the medallion—"

"We can use it to track down Amy!" Willow finished eagerly, then her expression fell, "But...I can't..."

Tara placed a comforting hand on her knee, "I can do the spell."

Buffy started to fidget. She hurried to the coat rack to grab her jacket. "Okay. While you guys do that, I'm gonna go see if I can find the original chamber where I met the First. Maybe it's keeping Spike there or close by."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Giles questioned, frowning.

"Probably not." Buffy threw on her coat, reached for the door. "Wanna come?"

A smile tugged at the corner of the Watcher's mouth. He'd missed his impulsive Slayer.

* * *

Spike didn't need to breathe, he knew this. Yet in spite of his undead state, the reflex never really left him. It was especially noticeable when his emotions ran high. Gasping as he feverishly kissed Buffy. Panting after a good brawl. Breathing heavily in anger.

He knew he didn't need to breathe. But when the Turok-Han held his head under the water, every instinct in him screamed that he was drowning. He struggled against the monster's grip. Even if he hadn't been weakened by blood loss and repeated beatings, he probably wouldn't have been able to break the Turok-Han's hold. The creature was more powerful than any vamp he'd ever encountered. He couldn't fight it. All he could do was endure.

Spike's head was finally yanked out of the natural pool and he flopped onto his back. He lay still for a moment, then the choking began. Water gushed from his mouth as his lungs fought to clear themselves.

The First stood over him, still in the guise of Drusilla. Its stolen face twisted into a sadistic grin. "That's why our kind make such good dollies. Hard to kill."

It leaned over the gasping vampire, staring into his bleary eyes. "I say when this is over," it stated coldly, "And I'm not done with you, yet. Not nearly."

The First signaled the Turok-Han, and the creature hauled the peroxide blonde back to the pool for another drowning.

* * *

Giles was hard-pressed to keep up with the Slayer as she marched with determination towards the abandoned Christmas tree lot. If she broke into a run, he would lose her for sure.

"Giles," Buffy suddenly spoke, "this is bad, isn't it? A new kind of bad."

"Just in time for Christmas," he muttered sardonically.

Buffy snorted. "You know, I didn't even realize it was December. Maybe when we get home, we should decorate the rubble." She looked at the man she'd come to think of as her father-figure. "You think you'll ever show up for a real visit? The kind where the world isn't about to end."

Giles nodded, "If we survive this, I promise."

"Good. 'Cause...I miss you."

He smiled tenderly at the girl. "I miss you, too."

They arrived at the lot and began searching the bare ground.

"I'm pretty sure it was around here somewh—_aah!_" Buffy found herself plummeting down a hole that had been thinly covered with plywood. She landed with a hard thud at least twenty feet down. "Found it!"

Giles's alarmed face peered down at her. "Good lord! Are you alright?"

"Peachy, except my knees bend backwards now." Buffy stood with a painful grunt. She took in her surroundings, then shouted up at the Watcher, "Stay up there. I'm gonna check it out."

She focused on her connection with Spike, used it to guide her towards him. He was closer than she'd hoped. Maybe even in the very same chamber she'd been to last time. She tried to let Spike know that she was coming. Instead of the relief she'd expected from him, Spike responded with a deep sense of alarm. It was almost like he was telling her to keep away.

Something else was down here. Buffy's Slayer senses prickled with its nearness. It felt like a vampire, but different somehow. Buffy kept her eyes peeled. Movement flickered in her periphery, but every time she turned her head, it was gone.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, saw nothing once again. Then she turned her head forward again and found herself face to face with a horrific, vampire-like creature. Before she could react, a blow from it sent her careening into the opposite wall. She struggled to her feet only to find herself on the receiving end of several ferocious kicks and punches that she didn't have any chance of blocking. This things was _fast_, and brutal. Buffy kept retreating and this vampire-thing just kept coming. Even when she managed to get in a few lucky hits, the creature hardly reacted. Then Buffy drove her stake through its chest.

It didn't dust. Buffy gaped as the übervamp yanked the stake out, its fangs bared in a triumphant snarl. Buffy barely managed to dodge in time to avoid getting skewered with her own weapon. She tried to punch the monster in the face, but it caught her fist and damn near crushed every bone in her hand. Then it grabbed her by the throat and lifted her feet off the ground. Desperate, Buffy reached for the nearest stalagmite, broke it loose, and used it to club the creature's bulbous head. Apparently, even the übervamp wasn't tough enough to be unaffected by that kind of smack to the dome. It toppled over, releasing the Slayer in the process.

_Run!_ Spike's panicked thought reached her. Buffy didn't hesitate to do just that; she couldn't rescue him if she was dead. She clambered up the craggy wall towards the opening she'd fallen through. The übervamp was right behind her. It grabbed her ankle at one point, but she managed to shake it loose and pulled herself the rest of the way to the surface. As she crawled away from the hole, she saw the sun begin to rise behind the silhouette of a startled Giles. There was a sizzling noise and Buffy turned her head in time to see the monster duck back into the hole, smoke billowing from its grayish skin.

* * *

Buffy wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. The übervamp—or Turok-Han, as Giles called it—was bound to show up at some point once the sun went down, and Buffy needed to be on her game. But she couldn't rest. Not yet. Not while the First still had Spike.

She justified going to work by using the computer at her desk to check the Internet for anything remotely useful about the First. Unfortunately, what little she did know about the First was too vague for the search engine to narrow down. She was lucky if she got less than 900,000 results. Buffy finally gave up.

The bell rang. Students hurried to their next class. Buffy stood in front of the sink in the restroom and splashed cold water in her face. She winced as her elbow protested and peeled back her sleeve to survey the damage. Her elbow was swollen and discolored. Buffy doubted it would be much better by nightfall, even with her Slayer healing.

A hand appeared and gently touched her injured arm. "That looks painful."

Buffy's lifted her gaze and saw the dark-haired girl from her dream. "I fell asleep again," it wasn't a question.

The girl nodded anyway. "You're running on fumes. Gonna burn out if you don't slow down."

"I can't slow down," Buffy grated, "Spike's down there going through god knows what—"

"You're angry," the girl interrupted, her smile sympathetic, "And desperate. It's making you sloppy, and that's what the First wants. It can't kill you yet, so it's gonna try everything it can to break you."

Buffy's chin trembled. "By breaking Spike."

The girl leaned closer, speaking earnestly, "It's using the Claim against you. It thinks Spike is your weakness. It doesn't understand that he's really your strength, and you're his. Neither one of you will break, 'cause you're never really apart. You can lean on each other, even now."

Buffy hugged herself. "I have to save him," her voice was small.

"But that's not all you have to do," the girl countered.

Buffy closed her eyes. "The Potentials."

"They need protecting." The girl squeezed her shoulder. "And you can't protect them _and_ rescue Spike at the same time. You gotta decide which to focus on. But Spike is strong enough to wait. Those Potentials are way too vulnerable right now."

Buffy opened her eyes and stared at the girl. "Who are you? Why are you telling me these things?"

"Told you," the girl smiled, "I'm one of the First. You already know my evil twin." She winked.

"So, what, you're the First Good?"

"If you like. I was never big on titles."

"What if I decide to go after Spike, and to hell with the Potentials?" Buffy challenged.

"That's your choice," the girl answered calmly, "I can't stop you. You know the right thing to do. And you always try to do what's right, even if it hur—"

Buffy jerked awake at the sound of the bell. She was slumped at her desk, clothes rumpled from her impromptu nap. Surreptitiously checking for drool, Buffy looked up to discover a bored-looking teen slouched at the other side of her desk. Oh, crap.

"Uh, sorry," she mumbled, "Wh-What were we talking about?"

"Only my life," was the teen's sarcastic response.

Buffy suppressed a groan.

* * *

"Think of it as a game," Not-Dru said, "A fun funny game. Without all the rules, or any of the bothersome winning part. But still, there are sides."

Spike glared at the apparition with his remaining functional eye. His left eye was swollen shut, his lips split in more than one place, cuts and gashes marred his skin. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, too weak to do anything but sit there and glower defiantly.

"You have to choose a side, Spike," the First continued, "Then we can fly, be free and visit all out friends as they come squirming up from out the earth. I know you like a good wriggle. And a giggle. And a squiggle." She swayed and twisted her body in a sensual dance, grinning maniacally.

"You're not Drusilla," Spike rasped.

The First laughed, "No. I'm really not."

"She was crazier than you."

Not-Dru feigned hurt at his words. "Daddy, no kicking. It's almost Christmas Day today, and you've gone spoiling it. I've been so very good all year." She leaned towards him and growled, "But I could be bad, if you like."

Spike hadn't heard the Turok-Han approach, so the blow to his face caught him off-guard. Spike panted, his useless lungs reacting to his rage.

"Bad Daddy. Needs a caning. Never learned his headmaster's lesson while all of the school bells ring and ring and ring..."

The Turok-Han backhanded Spike, then punched the other side of his face.

"Choose a side," the First cooed, "Choose _our_ side. You know that it's delicious. What do you say?"

Spike squinted up at it. "Dru, luv...get bent."

For a moment, the mask slipped, and the First's anger shone through. "Stupid, stubborn Daddy."

More blows rained down on the helpless vampire, one after the other, without pause. And all during the beating, the fake Drusilla danced.

* * *

Everyone was readying for the coming night. Xander boarded up the broken windows. The others readied the weapons.

"Hey, are we getting weapons?" Kennedy asked (or rather, demanded).

"We'll be armed when the Slayer feels we're ready," Annabelle stated primly.

"I feel ready," Molly declared, sounding very much like an uncertain child about to get the training wheels off.

"You're frightened," Annabelle countered, "You must learn to control your fear."

"You know what would help with that?" Kennedy turned to Buffy, "Weapons."

Buffy wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea, but the Potentials _were_ trained. And if the Bringers came, or the übervamp, they'd need every fighter they could get.

Confidence was low. Not just among the newcomers, but the Scoobies as well. Buffy saw it. Hell, she felt the same way. Her brief encounter with the übervamp left her uncertain that she could beat this thing.

Giles approached her as she stared out of one of the upstairs windows at the sunset.

"We've done everything we can," he told her, "And don't worry. Everyone here understands that you're calling the shots."

Buffy mustered a weak smile. "I just hope I'm calling the right ones."

Giles gently responded, "You have all my faith. And they're depending on you."

Buffy winced, "Giles, that's not exactly what I needed to hear right now."

"Guys!" Molly ran up to them, "Annabelle split."

Funny how the most steadfast of the girls was the first one to crack. Annabelle hadn't even taken any weapons with her. She just ran off in a panic.

Buffy refused to let anyone accompany her when she left to track the wayward Potential down. It didn't take long to find the girl. Her crumpled form lay in the middle of the street, next to an industrial site, neck snapped and blood drained. Buffy gazed down at the body in remorse when a sudden blow to her back sent her sprawling. She scrambled to her feet and turned to confront her attacker. It was the übervamp.

She couldn't help it; she was afraid. This thing was faster and stronger than anything she'd ever dealt with one-on-one. When they fought, it was all she could do just to avoid its worst blows. She didn't have a chance to retaliate. So she ran, or tried to. She was limping from a particularly sharp blow to her knee and the übervamp easily chased her down. It struck her again and again, its fists like sledgehammers. She felt her ribs shatter from the abuse, her flesh tear and swell. Towards the end, she was sure that she was going to die.

The last thing the übervamp did was throw her through a wall. Steel girders and heavy masonry rained down on her. That was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Spike felt it all, every hit Buffy suffered, her terror and pain. The only thing that kept him from breaking down was the knowledge that it was just what Not-Dru wanted. The bitch.

"Do you know why you're alive?" the apparition asked.

Spike somehow found it in him to be flippant, "Never figured you for...existential thought, luv," he wheezed through shattered ribs, "I mean, you hated Paris."

"You're alive for one reason, and one reason only. Because I wish it. Do you know why I wish it?" she smiled cruelly, "Because I'm not done with you."

"Give it up," Spike snarled, "Whatever you are, whatever you get away with, I'm out. You can't pull this puppet's strings anymore."

"And what makes you think you have a choice?" the First spat, "What makes you think you will ever be any good at all in this world?"

The vampire was almost serene as he answered, "She does."

* * *

The others found her half-dead and buried in the rubble. They were horrified by her condition; they'd never seen her so badly beaten.

She woke as they were carrying her home.

"We'll put her in my car," Xander's blurry voice reached her ears, "Get her to the hospital."

"No..." she forced through swollen lips, "No...hospital."

Her friends tried to argue, but she was adamant. They finally gave in and took her into the house to patch her up as best they could. Dawn wept at the sight of her and had to leave the room. Even the normally steadfast Giles was deeply shaken.

The physical pain was nothing. For Buffy, the real damage went much deeper. Hope was gone. She knew with complete certainty that she couldn't win. There was no bouncing back from this.

Buffy was curled up in her bed, staring at nothing. In spite of the distance to the living room, her Slayer hearing picked up the conversation downstairs.

"Giles, she looks bad," Willow's troubled voice reached her.

"She does," the Watcher responded, "I'm afraid there may be internal bleeding."

Alarmed, Willow asked, "What does that mean? Will she—"

"Die? No, I don't think so," Giles sounded less than certain, "I...I don't know."

"Well, what do we do if she can't fight? If she can't beat this thing?"

_I can't do this alone_, Buffy despaired.

But she wasn't alone. A sensation washed over her like an embrace, gentle yet overwhelming. Buffy didn't fight it. She let all the barriers down, let everything that was her merge with everything that was Spike. Before now, they'd only experienced this depth of connection when they made love. She didn't just feel him, she _was_ him, and he was her. She knew his love, his faith in her, his unwavering certainty that she would not let this defeat break her. She drew from his strength, and gave hers in return.

_I'm with you,_ Buffy promised him, _I love you. I will come for you._

He had no doubts.

"We're back at square one," Giles declared.

"Which square would that be, exactly?" Xander asked.

"I'm not sure," Giles sighed, "The First predates everything we've ever known. Or can know. It's everywhere. It's pure. I don't know if we can fight it."

"You're right."

All eyes went to Buffy as she limped into the room, her battered face eerily calm. "We don't know how to fight it. We don't know when it'll come. We can't run. Can't hide. Can't pretend it's not the end, 'cause it is. Something's always been there to try and destroy the world. We've beaten them back. But we're not dealing with them anymore. We're dealing with the reason they exist. Evil. The strongest. The First."

Giles looked at her in worry. "Buffy...I know you're very tired."

"I'm beyond tired," Buffy told him, "I'm beyond scared. I'm standing on the mouth of Hell, and it's gonna swallow me whole. And it'll choke on me." Her gaze was steady as she looked on her astonished audience. "We're not ready? _They're _not ready. They think we're gonna wait for the end to come like we always do. I'm done waiting. They want an apocalypse? Well, we'll give 'em one. Anyone else who wants to run, do it now. 'Cause we just became an army. We just declared war. From now on, we won't just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them and cut out their hearts, one by one, until the First shows itself for what it really is. And I'll kill it myself. There is only one thing on this earth more powerful than evil. And that's us." Her voice, though quiet, rang with absolute certainty. "Any questions?"


	12. Chapter 12: Showtime

**A/N: **Hope everybody had an enjoyable Easter. Now sit back and enjoy as Buffy kicks some Turok-Han ass and saves the day! :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Head strong and we're standing tall_

_Ready to fight, we're ready to brawl_

_In the distance, hearin' them calling your name_

_The time has come to deliver the pain_

_'Cause you're going, going down_

-Pop Evil, "Unstoppable"

Buffy tried not to think about the fact that a week had passed. She tried not to think about how, with each day she failed to rescue Spike, she felt him fade a little more. The vampire was past the point of pain now. She was pretty sure he was delirious. It was doubtful that the First even bothered to feed him. Giles once told Buffy that a vampire could survive indefinitely without blood, but if starved for long enough, would suffer permanent brain damage. Buffy _really_ tried not to think about that.

Instead, she focused on taking care of the Potentials. More of them were arriving every day; scared teenaged girls shoved onto buses and airplanes by their Watchers, or located by the coven in England and warned before the Bringers came for them.

Sometimes, the First's servants waited for the Potentials' arrivals in Sunnydale. Which was why Buffy rushed to the bus depot late one night to escort the latest Potential to the house. She arrived none too soon to find the girl cornered by some Bringers. Buffy took the first two out before they knew she was there, then fought off a third while the last one actually tried to make a break for it. As she stabbed her opponent with his own curved blade, she shouted at the runner, "Hey! Try picking on someone my own size!"

She hurled the knife, watched with satisfaction as it stuck in the Bringer's back. As the dead man toppled, Buffy approached the girl huddled against the deserted bus station. "Rona, right? I just got word you were arriving."

Like all the Potentials, Rona was in her teens. African-American, her hair styled in long dreadlocks, wearing bib overalls and a hoodie, carrying a backpack. Up until a few days ago, Rona didn't even know she was a Potential. She had no Watcher, didn't know anything about fighting vamps and demons. Her entire world had been turned upside-down practically overnight.

As Buffy helped her stand, Rona stared at her in awe. "You're her!"

Buffy smiled, "Her is me."

Rona eyed the bodies. "Y'know, I thought, uh... Well, they told me I'd be safe here."

"Right. Well, you are. I mean, you _will_ be...safer...with me around," Buffy winced at her less-than-confident tone, "Next time you're attacked—"

"Whoa, whoa. 'Next time'?" Rona gawked, "You sayin' I'm gonna get attacked again?"

Buffy gave an apologetic shrug. "Welcome to the Hellmouth."

The didn't run into any more trouble on the way back to the house. Buffy was mildly surprised to see all the girls who were camped out in the living room were still awake. Molly was there, along with the three newer girls. There was Vi, a redhead with an affinity for colorful clothes; Chloe, a shy girl with short, black hair and olive skin; and Eve, a pretty blonde with a southern drawl, who seemed to be something of a pessimist.

"You guys are all still up?" Buffy asked.

"Ah, who needs sleep?" Xander sat up in his makeshift bed on the couch.

Buffy gestured to the new arrival. "Everybody, this is Rona."

There was a chorus of welcomes, the last coming from Andrew, who's chair had been turned away to give the girls a modicum of privacy.

Rona frowned, uncertain. "Um... Why is that guy tied to a chair?"

"The question you'll soon be asking is, 'Why isn't he gagged?'" Xander quipped.

Giles entered the living room. Judging from the fact that he was still dressed in his street clothes, he hadn't even tried to get any sleep. "Molly, why don't you show our new houseguest where the kitchen is," he Watcher suggested, "I'm sure she's hungry after her travels."

As Molly and Rona left the room, Giles approached Buffy and asked in a quieter voice, "Everything alright?"

"She had a welcoming committee," Buffy informed him. She saw Anya bring in another sleeping bag for Rona and helped the ex-demon spread it out on the remaining floorspace.

"So, the First know Potential Slayers are making their way here," Xander remarked, his expression concerned.

Giles rubbed his eyes wearily. "I must warn the coven to be cautious."

"The First is always gonna be one step ahead of us, Giles," Buffy stated, frustration barely in check, "I need to know how to stop it. No, not stop it. _Hurt_ it. I want to hurt it real bad. Tell me how."

Unfortunately, Giles was fresh out of resources to consult on the matter. The stolen Watchers' records were the best source they had to go on, and the information there was thin.

"I made the rounds myself," Anya added, "Tried to dig up anything useful from the demon community. The ones that didn't attack me didn't know anything or didn't talk. Either way, we've got squat."

"Well, squat's not gonna cut it," Buffy retorted, "What about the Turok-Han?"

"The vampire time forgot?" Xander drawled.

Buffy snorted. "Time may have forgotten him, but I sure as hell won't. We know stakes don't kill it, but anything in those ancient myths about what does?" she asked without much hope, "Sunlight? Fire? Germs?"

Before Giles could answer, Andrew broke in, "So, Giles, with that thing guarding the entrance to the First's crib, how _will_ Buffy get to Spike?"

Buffy suppressed the pain of hearing Spike's name. It hurt enough just thinking about her kidnapped lover, never mind talking about him. "I really hate to admit this," she sighed, "but he's not wrong. And there's no way I'm gonna be able to help Spike until that thing is out of the way."

Eve chose that moment to interject, "Spike? Sorry, I-I'm confused. H-He's that vampire who's been killing people, right? He's the one you're worried about helpin'?"

Buffy immediately leapt to his defense, just barely keeping her tone level in spite of her frayed nerves, "He's not responsible for killing those people. This witch who works for the First was using some kinda mind-control thingie on him. B-But he's better now, Chloe."

The dark-haired girl looked almost apologetic as she corrected the Slayer, "I'm Chloe. She's Eve."

Buffy winced; she really needed to work on getting everybody's names straight.

Eve continued, "I-It's just... Well, we've been talking, and, well, do we have some kind of plan? You know, any kind of plan to keep us from dyin'?"

"We're working on it," Buffy replied, wishing she sounded more confident.

Giles spoke up, "There is one avenue that we haven't tried, yet."

"Giles!" Anya jumped to her feet, glaring at the Englishman.

"Beljoxa's Eye," he said, ignoring the former vengeance demon.

"And exactly what part of town is that avenue in?" Xander queried.

Anya hissed, "I told you no!"

"Wh-What is...Botox's Eye?" Buffy asked, puzzled by Anya's reaction.

"Beljoxa's Eye," Giles corrected with long-suffering patience, "It—It's an oracle-type creature that exists in a dark dimension."

"Internal vortex, more like," Anya reluctantly clarified.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Fun?"

"Not really, no."

"The point is," Giles persisted, "only demons can open the gateway to it."

Anya scowled at him. "Excuse me. _Ex_-demon here."

"You've still friends in the fold. Murderous acquaintances, anyway," he muttered.

"But there's no reason to think that this Beljoxa's Eye will have any of the answers we're looking for," the ex-demon protested.

"I'll take anything I can get," Buffy replied. "Anya, please, we're running out of time," she swallowed around the tightness in her throat, "Spike's running out of time."

* * *

It was getting harder to tell his dreams from reality. Everything was in a fog most of the time, waking or sleeping.

Sometimes he heard an unfamiliar girl's voice sing to him. It was the song his mum used to sing to him, so long ago. It comforted him.

_Remember the vows_

_That you made to your Mary_

_Remember the bow'r_

_Where you vowed to be true_

_Oh, don't deceive me_

_Oh, never leave me_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?_

His right eye cracked open, the left still swollen shut. None of his injuries were healing. The symbols cut into his torso still looked as if they'd just been made, over a week later. It was the lack of blood that hindered his healing ability; he hadn't been fed since his abduction. He was so weak, the Bringers hadn't even bothered to use chains when they tied his wrists to the wall; just leather cords.

A couple of the Bringers were hunched beside a fire a few yards away. One of them stood, drew his knife, and approached the restrained vampire. When the hooded man got close enough, Spike made a desperate move. Taking his weight on his arms, he lifted his legs and wrapped them around the Bringer's neck, then twisted until he heard the neck snap. Spike dropped his feet back to the ground and yanked on his wrists, snapping the leather cords. He punched out the other Bringer running towards him, then took off down the nearest tunnel. Spike had no idea where he was going; all he could think about was getting as far away from the First's minions as possible. As he rounded a corner, he skidded to a halt. Buffy was waiting for him at the other end of the tunnel, her arms outstretched, a gentle smile on her face. A surge of love and relief rose in Spike and he tried to close the distance between them—

—only for the cords to pull tight when he reached their limit. Spike wasn't even surprised anymore. He'd experienced this fever-dream too many times.

Not-Buffy stepped into view, smiling cruelly. "Dreaming of me again, aren't you? Poor Spike," it cooed in false sympathy, "He still thinks I believe in him. Be realistic. I don't even believe in myself. Least not enough to risk my skin to save your ass. Not enough to face...that."

The Turok-Han snarled, then turned and wandered off. The creature had lost interest in Spike after he stopped reacting to the torture. Apparently, it wasn't as much fun if all the victim did was stare off into space.

"I'm sorry, Spike," the First pouted, "but you need to accept this. You know it never would have worked out. It's time to let go, so we can both move on. I promise, soon it'll all be—" It paused when it realized the vampire wasn't listening. His head hung low and he was muttering something to himself. Curious, the First stepped closer to listen. It smiled in amusement as it made out the words.

"She will come. She will come for me. She will come. She will come for me," Spike repeated this litany, only stopping when Not-Buffy reached out to place an insubstantial finger over his lips.

When the vampire fell silent, the First, "No. I won't."

The fact that it was wearing Buffy's face, speaking in her voice, was the harshest torture of all.

* * *

Buffy and Xander were just untying Andrew—with the implied threat of dismemberment should he try to escape—when Tara hurried into the room. She'd answered a phone call from the coven a moment ago and received some urgent news. "Buffy, Althenea called. Another Potential arrived in town day before yesterday. She's at the Sunspot Motel n-near the highway."

"Why are we just finding out about this now?" Xander asked.

"Bringers killed her Watcher before he could tell anyone he sent her," the witch replied, "I-If it wasn't for a particularly powerful seer in the coven, we w-wouldn't even know about it now."

Buffy pursed her lips. It was late in the day, but they couldn't leave the Potential out there alone. The longer she was out there without protection, the more likely the Bringers would get to her first. "Okay. There's still a couple hours of daylight left," she decided, "You guys should be safe here. I'll get her and bring her back."

As she headed for the door, Xander followed. "I'll go with you."

Andrew eagerly jumped up and started after them. "Alright! Retrieving a Potential. Let's do it!" At their scolding frowns, the blonde geek visibly wilted. "Or I could just...go wash up." He was pretty ripe, after all, having spent days tied up in that chair.

It was a short drive to the Sunspot Motel in Xander's car. Buffy had a quick word with the desk clerk, then she and Xander headed for one of the rooms.

"You sure this is it?" Xander stared uncertainly at the door.

"Clerk said it's the only check-in they've had in a week," Buffy replied, "Tourism must be down."

Xander drawled, "Right in the middle of apocalypse season."

Buffy knocked and called out, "Hello? It's okay, we're friendly. And we have eyes."

Xander noticed a gap in the curtains covering the motel room's window. He peeked in, shielding his eyes from the sunlight, then tensed as the room's interior came into focus. "Buffy. Kick the door down."

She didn't question him. Not when he was using that too-serious tone. The cheap lock gave easily to her powerful kick and she and Xander entered the room. The girl's body lay face-down on the floor, an overturned lamp lying next to her, still switched on. Blood stained the back of her shirt from where she'd been stabbed.

Buffy knelt beside the body and checked for a pulse. She looked up at her friend, face grim. "She's cold. Been dead for days."

Xander shook his head in regret. "Poor kid. She made it all the way to Sunnydale just to get herself killed. If only we'd—"

Both of them gaped when Buffy turned the body over, revealing the dead Potential's face.

"Eve." At least Buffy got her name right this time.

"_Eve,_ who's in our house?" Xander exclaimed.

Buffy's jaw clenched in rage. She stood and stormed out of the motel room, Xander hurrying after her. She yanked the passenger door of his car open, almost ripping it off the car in her anger. "Get us back to the house," she barked. Xander hastened to obey.

Buffy burst through the front door, startling everyone inside.

"Buffy? Wh-What is it?" Willow stammered.

Buffy didn't say a word. After checking the living room and kitchen, she marched down the basement stairs. Willow, Tara, Dawn, Andrew, and Xander followed. Buffy saw all the Potentials sitting together on the basement floor, apparently engaged in girl-talk rather than making use of the training equipment.

"Get away from them!" Buffy yelled.

The girls looked at her in surprised confusion.

"Who?" Kennedy blurted, "Get away from who?"

Eve was the only one whose expression remained calm. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "What's the problem, officer?" she drawled.

Buffy glared at the false Potential. "I said get away from them. _Now_."

The girls all got to their feet, Not-Eve standing calmly while the others backed away from her.

"Buffy, what did Eve do?" a worried Dawn asked. Her eyes widened when Xander told her, "That's not Eve."

"Eve's dead," Buffy said, eyes never leaving the apparition.

A frightened Rona stammered, "I-I don't understand."

The First smirked. "Oops. One more down. Oh, well. Can't save 'em all. Can you, Buffy?" It turned to face the Potentials. "Thanks for the slumber party, girls. It's been real fun these past couple of nights. I learned a whole lot—"

"Shut up and get out," Buffy snarled.

The First threw her an arrogant look. "Or you'll do what?"

The Slayer didn't respond. They both knew there was nothing she could do to the incorporeal being.

"I'll be sending a guest over to visit y'all later on tonight. After the sun goes down, of course. Try and make him feel welcome...before he rips y'all to pieces." Not-Eve grinned maliciously. "Bye."

In a flash, the apparition was gone.

Andrew did an about-face and ran up the stairs. "I need to go wash up again!"

The confrontation had left them all shaken, especially the Potentials. Everyone was gathered around the dining table, arguing about what they should do.

"I know you're all scared," Buffy said, "You know what? I am, too. But Giles and Anya will be back soon and hopefully they will have information that we need to stop the First. In the meantime, we need to stick together. We're stronger that way. We cannot afford to fall apart now."

"She's right," Andrew agreed, "Where would the Justice League have been if they hadn't put their differences aside to stop the Imperium and his shape-shifting alien horde?"

Buffy stared at him. "Don't help me."

Xander spoke, "Buff, sun goes down and übervamp's on its way. So, a plan would be good right now."

Buffy turned an apologetic look towards Willow. "Wil, I'm sorry to ask, but..."

The redhead sighed shakily, "I know. We need a barrier."

Tara reached over and gripped her hand in reassurance.

"A major one," Buffy nodded, "Something tells me this vampire doesn't need an invite to get into the house. Can you do it?"

"We'll try," Tara answered. Willow smiled at her girlfriend in gratitude; she had more faith in her abilities with Tara's steadying presence.

The Potentials, however, were less than reassured.

"And what if that doesn't work?" Chloe all but shouted, "What if that monster gets through?"

"Then we'll deal," Buffy replied calmly.

"Deal?" Rona exclaimed, "Fight, you mean. How are we supposed to do that?"

"And with what?" Vi added.

Kennedy, as the only one who seemed to have any confidence in the Slayer's abilities, countered, "With whatever it takes!" But then she looked at the older woman with a hint of uncertainty. "Right?"

"Buffy, you fought the Turok-Han, and it almost killed you," Molly said, "You staked that thing, and it didn't die."

Vi's eyes bulged in rising panic. "Maybe it _can't_ be killed."

The impromptu meeting quickly degenerated into squabbling. Buffy and the Scoobies watched the rising panic with a sense of helplessness. Then Willow's telepathy picked up a thought: _Willow? Can you hear me?_

_ Yes,_ she responded. Her eyes met Buffy's

_ We're losing them, _the Slayer thought to her,_ We can't let that happen. I have an idea. Grab Tara and Xander._

The teens didn't even notice the adults leave the room. Buffy led her friends into the kitchen, where they continued their wordless dialog. Buffy needed to face the Turok-Han. The Potentials needed to see that this monster, fierce though it was, was not unstoppable. But the fight needed to take place away from the house. Fortunately, Xander knew just the place...

* * *

Deep below ground, the First sensed the approach of night. Still in the guise of Eve, it intoned solemnly, "The time has come...for all good children to say...goodnight." It turned to the waiting Turok-Han and commanded, "Take 'em all. Except for _her_."

The creature snarled and ran for the tunnel leading to the surface, eager for the hunt.

The First morphed into the form of Buffy and smiled at the half-conscious blonde vampire still tethered to the cave wall. "Well...alone again. I just _love_ having you all to myself."

Spike didn't react. In his delirium, all he heard was the stranger's voice singing:

_Oh, gay is the garland_

_And fresh are the roses_

_I've culled from the garden_

_To place upon thy brow_

_Oh, don't deceive me_

_Oh, never leave me_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?_

* * *

The sun was setting. Bringers gathered outside the house to prevent anyone from escaping. The weapons chest was opened, its contents divided amongst the Scoobies and the Potentials. Buffy frowned as Andrew approached.

"Can I have something?" Seeing her expression, he whined, "C'mon, the Turok-Han's coming for me, too, y'know. I have a right to defend myself. If you...say so."

Buffy sighed; he had a point. But no way was she giving him a weapon. She reached into the chest and handed him a bottle of holy water instead. Andrew hugged it to his chest like a security blanket.

Dawn peered out one of the windows. "Guys. Something's happening."

The others looked as well, and quickly wished they hadn't. The Turok-Han had arrived. The door rattled in its frame as the creature began pounding on it. It wouldn't be long before the übervamp broke through.

Willow took a steadying breath and gripped Tara's hand, interlacing their fingers. The witches began to recite the incantation which would raise the protective barrier. _"Caerimonia, Minerva, saepio, saepire, saepsi."_

The door began to splinter under the constant barrage. Everyone shifted anxiously. Andrew began muttering, "Um...deflector shields. Deflector shields up."

The Turok-Han smashed its way into the house. It saw its prey huddled together in the living room and lunged.

_"Saepio impedimentum."_

There was a shimmer to the air and the übervamp slammed into an invisible forcefield.

"It's working!" Vi cried excitedly.

The witches grimaced under the strain. "It's—It's strong," Willow gasped.

"Hang on," Buffy urged.

The shimmering barrier began to waver.

"They can't hold it!" Kennedy yelled.

Rona fidgeted in panic. "What do we do? What do we do!"

"Run," Buffy ordered, "Everybody run!"

As the others made for the backdoor, Buffy placed her hands on Willow's and Tara's shoulders, signaling them to let the barrier fall. They all ran out the back and fought their way through the Bringers. They ran down the empty street for a few blocks before Xander glanced behind them and declared, "Okay, no Bringers following. Guess they'll save us for ol' Snaggletooth."

"Time to split up," Buffy said.

The Potentials stared at her, incredulous.

"Split up?" Molly blurted, "We're splitting up? Is that wise?"

Buffy looked at Xander. "Take everyone and find a safe location."

He nodded, playing to the script. "I know a place."

"What're you gonna do?" Dawn asked, the only Scooby kept out of the loop.

Buffy answered, "Try to slow it down. Lead it away from you guys. Get it to chase me."

Alarmed, her sister cried, "Buffy, you can't take that thing on yourself!"

"I'll stay," Kennedy volunteered.

"No," Buffy flatly turned her down. She grabbed the holy water from Andrew.

"Hey! I need that!"

"Get 'em out of here," she shouted to Xander, "Now!"

She threw herself at the Turok-Han the moment it showed itself. With a leap, her feet connected with the monster's chest. It was like trying to kick a mountain. Buffy dropped to the pavement while the übervamp barely even swayed from the impact. When it leaned over her, she smashed the bottle of holy water into the creature's face. The liquid didn't do nearly as much damage as it would have to an ordinary vamp, but it still left a nasty burn on the Turok's face. The übervamp retaliated by shoving her head through a car window. Buffy managed to free herself from the monster's grasp and started running in the opposite direction from where her friends went. It only took a few seconds for her to realize the Turok wasn't following her. It had gone after the others.

Buffy ran at full Slayer speed to the place Xander had chosen for the final smackdown; the construction site of the new public library. She got there just in time to see the others standing in the pit of the building's foundation, backing away from the Turok-Han. Buffy found the main switch for the work lights and turned it on, flooding the area with light, then she hopped onto the closest wall and stood with her arms crossed, cool and confident.

Willow stopped Kennedy from raising her crossbow at the Turok. "Just watch. It's showtime."

The Scoobies and the Potentials all scrambled up the nearest scaffolding, taking themselves out of immediate danger and giving themselves the best view at the same time. The übervamp ignored them for the moment, its baleful eyes focused on the Slayer.

"Looks good, doesn't it? They're trapped in here. Terrified. Meat for the beast, and there's nothing they can do but wait." She did a forward flip off the wall and landed a few yards from the Turok-Han. The creature growled at her warily as she sauntered towards it. "That's all they've been doing for days," she continued, "waiting to be picked off, having nightmares about monsters that can't be killed. But I don't believe in that. I _always_ find a way. I'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about. And right now, you and me are gonna show 'em why. It's time," she paused dramatically, "Welcome to Thunderdome."

Andrew, unable to pass up the chance at quoting one of his favorite movies, murmured, "'Two men enter. One man leaves.'"

The fight was different this time. Buffy was well-rested, she knew the übervamp's moves, and most importantly, she swore to herself she was not going to let Spike remain a prisoner one more day. She was going to kill this thing, and then she was going to rescue her vampire.

Even with her newfound determination, victory didn't seem likely. The Turok-Han was fast, wicked-agile, and relentless. Mostly, all Buffy could really do was dodge the worst of its attacks. She still took quite a few hits from the thing. At one point it even flung her against the scaffolding where her friends anxiously watched. Kennedy dropped her crossbow in the impact. When Buffy hit the ground, she picked the weapon up and managed to get an arrow into the übervamp's shoulder. This slowed it for just a second; long enough for her to get to her feet and grab a nearby metal pole. She struck the creature over the head, then pole-vaulted over to where she saw a pickaxe on the ground. The Turok leapt after her, its foot striking her face before she snatched up the pickaxe and swung it at the creature. The Turok-Han grabbed the pickaxe on one of her swings and used its leverage to fling her against the site manager's sheet-metal office. Then it used the tool's handle to strike her, sending her flying into a pile of cinderblocks.

The übervamp tossed the pickaxe aside and rushed after her. Buffy picked up a cinderblock, tried to hit the monster with it, but the creature shattered it with its fist, then sent her sprawling from a punch to the jaw. It kicked her in the stomach before she managed to roll away and regain her feet. Another hit, and she burst through the wooden platform of yet another set of scaffolding, landing atop the swaying structure. The Turok-Han clambered up the scaffolding, found the dazed Slayer and picked her up by the throat.

Gasping, Buffy grabbed the arrow protruding from the creature's shoulder, snapped it off, then drove the broken shaft through the Turok's right eye. The monster staggered back with a howl, releasing Buffy in the process. She then rained a series of blows on the übervamp, forcing it to back up and up until it tangled itself in some orange netting. Buffy didn't let up on her attack. She grabbed a pole and swung her legs out, kicking the Turok-Han off the scaffolding and onto a pile of lumber below. She leapt after it, landing just as the creature staggered to its feet. They exchanged several hits, there strength more or less equal now.

It was just as Buffy suspected; the Turok-Han was so used to defeating its opponents quickly that it had no real staying power. All she had to do was endure the fight long enough for the creature to wear itself out. Its swings began to miss their mark as often as not, while Buffy's strikes connected over and over again. She grabbed the back of the creature's neck and slammed its head into the scaffolding's poles. Metal clanged and the übervamp reeled, accidentally turning its back to her in the process. Buffy found a nearby coil of barbwire and wrapped it around the monster's neck, pulling it tighter and tighter until its head was severed from its body.

The Potentials watched in awe as the nightmarish Turok-Han dissolved and blew away.

Buffy wiped her hands, sending up a small cloud of particles. "See? Dust. Just like the rest of 'em."

She walked towards the scaffolding and gazed up at her friends and the astonished teens. "I don't know what's coming next. But I do know it's gonna be just like this—hard, painful. But in the end, it's gonna be us. If we all do our parts, believe it, we'll be the ones left standing." She finished with the words Spike once uttered to her, "Here endeth the lesson."

Her friends smiled. Dawn beamed with pride. The Potentials and Andrew gazed at the Slayer in awe.

And a short distance from them, invisible to their eyes, the First watched them all in impotent rage. The doubts it had spent so many hours sowing in their minds was erased in a matter of moments. Worse than that, it had just lost a valuable prisoner.

This was only one battle, the First reminded itself. Let them have their paltry victory; it would still win the war.

* * *

Buffy wanted to run straight to the First's underground chamber and retrieve spike, but her friends insisted she have her injuries seen to first. While in no way nearly as bad off as her last confrontation with the Turok-Han, she had still taken quite a beating. Her ribs were taped, scrapes and cuts cleaned, and butterfly bandages applied to a deep gash on her left cheek.

"Spike will need blood," she said as she readied herself to leave.

Giles and Anya had returned from their visit with Beljoxa's Eye, though they had yet to tell her how it went. Judging from their somber looks, it wasn't anything good.

"I'll go to the butchers," Giles volunteered.

Buffy smiled gratefully, then hurried out into the night and made her way to the Christmas tree lot where the only entrance to the tunnels she knew of was located. She jumped down the hole and hurried down the tunnel, trusting the Claim to guide her. She ran into a few Bringers along the way, but they hardly slowed her down. She kept a knife she took from one of them in case she ran into any more trouble. However, it seemed the rest of the First's minions had cleared out.

Buffy's heart leapt to her throat when she entered the chamber and found Spike tied to the wall. The fact that they didn't even use chains to restrain him told her just how weakened the vampire had become. Tears stung her eyes as she took in the numerous signs of abuse; the swollen eye, the symbols carved into his flesh, the faint wheeze that spoke of fractured ribs.

Spike's head rose unsteadily, his undamaged eye regarding her with apathy. "A knife now, is it?" he slurred, too addled to realize that it wasn't the First, "What'll... What'll that... You—You can't hurt me. You're...You're just a bloody figment, you are. You're just..."

The tears she'd been fighting now spilled down her cheeks. A sob escaped her.

Spike blinked in confusion, then he felt it, felt her love and sadness and relief through the link. His lower lip trembled. "Buffy?"

Crying, Buffy closed the distance between them and used the Bringer's knife to cut him free. She let the knife slip from her grasp and fall to the ground as she cradled her lover's broken face in both hands and he weakly wrapped his arms around her. His legs would have given out if Buffy hadn't been there to hold him up. Gasping and sobbing, their lips met again and again in desperate, joyful kisses. The Claim sang with their intense emotions.

"I knew," Spike murmured between kisses, "Knew you'd come for me."

"I love you," she whispered hoarsely.

"Love you."

They rested their foreheads together, breathing each other in. Finally, Buffy drew back and gently encouraged Spike to rest his arm across her shoulders so she could take his weight. "Come on. Let's go home."

Slowly, on wobbly legs, they left the underground chamber of horrors and headed for the safety of home.


	13. Chapter 13: Potential

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_She's an extraordinary girl_

_In an ordinary world_

_And she can't seem to get away_

-Green Day, "Extraordinary Girl"

Buffy at up in bed, checking out the sketches in the back of Micheal Poole's book for the gazillionth time, when there was a knock at the bedroom door. Beside her, Spike shifted and tightened his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her belly before he stilled again. For the past few days since being rescued, all Spike had done was sleep and drink copious amounts of blood. The prolonged bed-rest was doing him good, though. His injuries were almost completely healed. Buffy only wished she had more time to stay with him, as he seemed much more peaceful with her physically at his side. That's what the others told her, anyway; the Scoobies took turns sitting with the vampire when Buffy was at work or training the Potentials.

"Come in," Buffy called out as quietly as possible. The door opened and Tara crept in. A warm smile graced her features as she approached the bed. "How is he?"

Buffy ran her fingers through Spike's white-blonde curls. "Better. No nightmares," she smiled at the witch, "What's up?"

Tara held something up, almost sheepish. At first, Buffy thought it was the medallion she'd gotten out of Spike, but this one was on a chain. "Th-The tracking spell I used on the medallion finally worked," Tara explained, "Only Amy w-wasn't there."

Buffy pressed her lips together and exhaled a long breath from her nose. "Well, we knew catching her was a long shot, anyway. At least she won't be able to use these mind-control things on anybody else."

"I'm gonna destroy them," Tara stated bluntly, "These things...they're too evil to exist."

Buffy heartily agreed.

Tara sat down on the edge of the bed and gestured to the book in the Slayer's hand. "You've b-been reading that a lot lately."

"Not so much reading as lookin' at the pictures." Buffy held up the book to show her one of the sketches.

Tara's eyebrows lifted. "Th-That looks like the Seal of Danzalthar."

"Yeah. I'm thinking Poole's 'Guiding Spirit' had him draw all these things because we're going to encounter them at some point." Buffy frowned at the book. "Just wish he could've included some instructions with them," she grumbled, "Or at least give some kinda clue as to what these things are. I mean, what the heck is this supposed to mean?" She turned the page to a drawing of what looked like a stone tablet of some sort with strange letters carved into it.

"'It is not for thee. It is for her alone to wield.'"

Both women turned surprised looks to the suddenly awake vampire. "You can read this stuff?" Buffy asked.

"Sure," Spike answered in a rough, just-woke-up voice, "I'm an educated bloke, me."

Buffy smirked fondly. "Showoff."

The peroxided vampire smiled.

"M-Maybe we can find something on these other sketches," Tara suggested, "See if w-we can dig up anything useful."

"Couldn't hurt." Buffy passed her the slim volume.

"Glad to see you're getting b-better, Spike," Tara said in parting.

"Thanks, Glinda."

Once Tara shut the door behind her, Buffy scooched down until her head was lying on the pillow beside Spike's, putting their gazes level with each other. She reached out and gently traced his angular features. "How're you feeling?"

"Bloody knackered," he muttered, but he was smiling, and the link hummed with quiet contentment. He sighed as Buffy's fingers brushed against his Claim mark, sending a faint thrill through his body. "How long've I...?"

"Three days," Buffy replied, "Well, closer to four. You must've drank six pigs worth of blood."

"Had a lotta healin' to do." With a groan, he rolled onto his back and gazed down at his bare torso. The sybols the Bringers had carved into his flesh were gone, only the faintest white lines remaining. The swelling in his left eye had gone down so he was now able to see out of both eyes. And his ribs, while sore, no longer felt as if they grated on each other with every breath.

"You'll be up and around in no time," Buffy encouraged.

"Mmh," Spike grunted, noncommittal.

There was another knock. Buffy suppressed a sigh. "Yeah?"

Vi peeped into the room. "Hey, uh, Chloe was wondering if she could switch rooms with Molly? She says Rona talks in her sleep."

_Oh, for god's sake. _ Buffy almost snapped at the girl. She forced herself to at least _sound_ calm, "Fine. Just...figure out the sleeping arrangements on your own."

"O-Okay." Vi flashed a nervous smile and ducked back out.

Spike frowned in bewilderment. "Who the bloody hell was that?"

"Oh, right. You were kinda out of it when I brought you back." Buffy rolled onto her side to face him. She told him about Giles's unexpected arrival, about the Potentials, and the destruction of the Watchers Council. "We've got five of 'em so far," she concluded, "And more Potentials are on the way."

Spike's brow furrowed in thought, taking it all in. "Huh."

"I've been training them," Buffy said, "Figure we need all the fighters we can get. You wouldn't believe how raw they are. None of them have even _seen_ a vampire before."

Spike quirked an eyebrow at this. "Watchers couldn't be bothered teachin' them?"

"I'm guessing they stuck to mostly book learning."

The vampire snorted. "That'll do sod all when their necks are on the line. Hands-on experience is what they need."

"That's my line of thinking," Buffy agreed.

A thoughtful look came to Spike's eyes. "I could help with the training," he offered, "Soon as I'm back on my feet, I mean. Show 'em what a real vamp can do."

Buffy was surprised; she'd considered asking Spike to do just that, but hadn't been all that sure he would say yes. "A-Are you sure? Hanging out with a bunch of teenaged girls isn't exactly your thing."

Spike raised on shoulder in a half-shrug. "Like you said, we need all the fighters we can get." His expression hardened. "This is my war, too, luv."

Yes, it certainly was. Buffy leaned in to kiss him. "Thank you."

Spike kissed her back, wishing he had the energy for more. But already his eyelids were drooping. In a few minutes, he was sound asleep once again.

* * *

Vi and Rona navigated the rows of tombstones, bodies tense, eyes wary. Each girl carried a stake. Vi clutched hers in both hands, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. Rona was slightly less jumpy, but still noticeably anxious.

A twig snapped. Rona spun around only to get knocked down by a glancing blow. The vampire loomed over her in full gameface, a predatory growl emitting from its throat. Vi made a desperate lunge with her stake. The vamp grabbed her wrist and spun her around so her back was against his front, her arm pinned behind her. The vampire's other arm went across her shoulders to hold her in place. From the corner of her eye, Vi saw the creature's jaws open wide, felt the telltale pinpricks of its fangs on her neck. She screamed.

Spike drew back and let his features morph back into human. He looked to where Buffy and the other Potentials stood a short distance away, observing the exercise. "Okay," he said, all business, "These two are dead. Why?"

Rona got to her feet and muttered irritably, "'Cause the black chick always gets it first?"

"What was that, Rona?" Buffy's tone carried a hint of warning.

The Potential sighed, "I'm dead because he's a vampire. I don't have Slayer strength, Slayer speed. It—It wasn't a fair fight."

Spike addressed the girl still pinned against him, "Vi, d'you think I care if it's a fair fight?"

"No. N-No, sir," she stuttered, "You don't play by the rules and I have learned a valuable lesson...of some sort. Ow!" The redhead flinched as Spike applied a little more pressure to her twisted arm.

Buffy kept her expression neutral, though the vampire sensed her amusement. "Okay, Spike," she chided.

With a slight smirk, he released the Potential, who immediately hurried out of his reach, rubbing her sore arm.

"You're right," Buffy answered Rona, "You don't have Slayer strength, but that doesn't mean that you're not strong. You have inherent abilities that others do not have."

"Not like you do," Molly pointed out. The English girl was diligently taking notes throughout the lesson.

"No, not yet," Buffy admitted, "But it's there. You have the potential. You have strength, speed, instinct. You just have to learn to trust yourself. Rona. What did your instincts tell you to do just then?"

"Block his attack, keep him off-balance, gain the ad...vantage..." the girl's voice trailed off as she noticed the Slayer's unconvinced expression.

"No, they didn't."

Rona fidgeted, embarrassed. "They told me to run."

"Vi?"

"They told me to run," the redhead agreed. She through a nervous glance towards Spike. "They're still sort of telling me to run."

"Don't fight on his terms. Your gut's telling you to run, run." This instruction surprised the Potentials, especially the die-hard Kennedy. "Regain the higher ground. Make the fight your own." Buffy looked at the blonde vamp. "Spike, what did _your_ instincts tell you to do just then?"

"Hunt. Kill." Spike's stance was relaxed, yet alert, ready to leap into action at a second's notice. Even without his gameface on, it was easy to see the predator in him.

Buffy drew her stake from its holster and stepped closer. "Come at me, full speed."

Spike grinned, always happy to get into it with the Slayer. As his face morphed once again, Buffy turned her back to him and spoke to the gathered teens, seemingly unconcerned with the deadly creature behind her. "He needs to kill to live. That tells you everything you need to know."

Without even turning around, Buffy dodged Spike's sudden lunge. The vampire collided face-first with a large tombstone and fell to the ground. The girls flinched in sympathy. Buffy took advantage of his dazed state and jumped onto him, straddling his waist while she pressed the tip of her stake to his chest. "Instinct," she stated calmly, "Understand his, but trust yours. You were chosen for a reason."

There was a flare of pain through the link and Buffy heard a sharp inhalation. She looked down in alarm to see Spike in his human face, his expression tense as he swallowed in discomfort.

"A-Are you okay?" she asked, sounding like the worried girlfriend instead of the no-nonsense instructor. She quickly rose up on her knees to take her weight off him.

"Fine," Spike raised himself up on his elbows, "Couple of ribs ain't quite set right since... I'm fine."

"Let me see." Buffy tried to lift the front of his shirt up. Spike gently drew her hand away. He held on for a moment longer than necessary and ran his thumb across the back of her knuckles. His smile was tender as he quietly assured her, "I'm gonna be okay."

"That's hot," Rona stated drily.

Buffy's cheeks flushed at the reminder that they had an audience.

"So, we're supposed to, like, make out with him or somethin'?" Molly asked. The poor girl wasn't even joking.

"Careful, Buffy," Vi warned, "Just when you think it's part of the lesson, he'll...hurt your arm."

Spike grinned in amusement as Buffy scrambled to her feet. He let her help him up, then he and Buffy schooled their features back into seriousness.

"Molly, Kennedy, let's go. You're up," Buffy ordered, "Next lesson."

The two girls picked up their stakes and wandered into the cemetery. Spike met Buffy's gaze for a moment, then vanished among the graves without a sound.

All in all, Buffy thought the first field exercise was pretty successful. _She_ certainly learned a few things. It was clear the Potentials had a long way to go before they were ready for battle. They lacked confidence, they froze at crucial moments, didn't trust their instincts. Every one of them had "died" within a few minutes of trying to hunt Spike.

"How's your head?" she asked while the girls noisily tore through the kitchen for a snack. Buffy grimaced at the thought of how much the next grocery bill would be.

Spike rubbed his hand over his scalp, mussing his hair. "Fine. Few zaps, but nothin' I can't handle." He'd been careful not to hit anyone too hard, sticking mainly to glancing blows and a few wrestling moves.

Buffy squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks again for this. It's gonna be a big help, having them work with a real vampire."

"Need all the bloody help they can get," he muttered, "Never saw a Slayer as green as them. Even all of 'em together'd make easy pickings for a vamp with just a few years experience."

Buffy pursed her lips in worry. "If we had more time..."

"But we don't," Spike met her troubled gaze, "The First is gonna start makin' noise again soon enough. These girls have gotta learn fast or they won't stand a chance."

Buffy knew he was right. They were going to have to chuck the girls into the deep end and hoped they could swim. "Any ideas?"

"I'm thinking field trip," Spike suggested, "Something a bit more hands-on."

Buffy listened as he explained what he had in mind. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but she trusted Spike's judgment. And they couldn't afford to play it safe.

"Gimme a night to recon, first," Spike suggested.

Buffy nodded. For better or worse, she agreed to this course of action. She just hope she wouldn't come to regret it.

* * *

Buffy hated making speeches, yet that's all she seemed to do lately. The next morning, she and the Potentials were gathered in the basement, which functioned as their training/classroom. Buffy paced while the girls chattered and laughed among themselves like ordinary teens. Dawn sat on the basement steps behind her, no doubt feeling left out. Buffy felt bad for that, but not enough to include Dawn in the training regimen. She wasn't a Potential, after all.

Instead of yelling over the chatter, Buffy flung an axe over the girls' heads and almost smiled at the shocked looks on their faces as the weapon embedded itself in the archery target on the far wall. She now had their undivided attention.

Buffy didn't mince words, "You're all gonna die. But you knew that already. 'Cause that's the cool reward for being human. The big dessert at the end of the meal. Don't kid yourselves, you guys. This whole thing is all about death. You think you're different 'cause you might be the next Slayer?" She threw a challenging glare at the youthful faces. "Death is what a Slayer breathes, what a Slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a Slayer lives. My death could make you the next Slayer."

She strode across the room to retrieve her axe. "Oh, goody. Rapt attention. I love that so much." She yanked the axe free of the target, returned to the front of the room. "Now, where was I? Ah. If we go with what Anya's resources are telling us, then the First is in remission for a while, which we _think_ means advantage us."

Chloe held up her hand. "What does that mean, about the First?"

"Best we can tell, he—or, more precisely, _it—_was putting a lot of stock in that übervamp thing. The...Chaka Khan."

"Turok-Han," Dawn eagerly spoke up.

"So, when I kicked its ass, the whole Firsty circus decided to back off for a while. Good news? It means we have some breathing space for a while," Buffy's expression turned more serious, "Here's the half-empty; time away means time to regroup. And part of that regrouping is coming back stronger than ever. The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle. Decide now that it's not going to be you. I know you're all tired, far away from home, anxious. But you're all special. Most people in this world have no idea why they're here, or what they want to do. You do. You have a mission. A reason for being here. You're not here by chance. You're here because you are the Chosen Ones."

Speech over, she turned and started up the stairs, saying to her sister in passing, "Dawn, you'd better hurry up and eat something so you're not late for school."

She didn't see the look of disappointment on Dawn's face.

Work was fairly uneventful, though Buffy did have a fairly interesting talk with a girl named Amanda. Buffy liked her. Amanda gave the impression of being the shy, mousy intellectual, but when pushed too far, the girl could prove a real terror towards bullies. It got Amanda into trouble more than once, which was probably why she was one of those students who was most frequently sent to Buffy's counseling office. Buffy and Amanda talked for a while, mostly about the girl's confusion about an irrational crush she had towards a boy who picked on her, then it was time for Buffy to call it a day.

She returned home to total chaos. Several items had been knocked over in the living room and Vi, Rona, and Xander were all trying to shout over each other. Andrew was there was well, looking more and more distressed by the arguing. Before Buffy had a chance to say anything, Andrew cried out, "Why do we always have to yell!"

At least that shut everybody up.

Buffy didn't even try to hide her exasperation as she entered the living room. "I was only gone a couple of hours."

That was as far as she got with her chastising before Willow approached with news from the coven. The Scoobies all gathered at the dining table a few minutes later and Willow told them that the coven's seers had located another Potential. The twist: she was already living in Sunnydale.

"All these girls flocking to town, and this one's already right here under our noses," Anya remarked at the irony.

"Wait. The seers couldn't find out her name or, like, her address or anything?" Xander frowned in puzzlement, "Am I getting the definition of 'seer' wrong?"

Buffy sighed in frustration, "I was gonna take the girls out tonight for a little show and tell, but maybe now I shouldn't."

Hovering in the background, Andrew lamented, "They were so excited. You're gonna break their little hearts."

"This town is lousy with Bringers," Buffy pointed out, "I-I don't wanna risk that they find this new girl first."

Willow shook her head. "No, you should go. I-I can do a spell to find her tonight. I just have to get together a few ingredients. But y-you shouldn't skip your training. It's too important."

Buffy regarded her friends with a mixture of worry and hopefulness. "You think you can handle it?"

"No problemo," Xander responded confidently.

"Yeah, you guys have more important things to do," Dawn added. It was painfully obvious how left out she felt, not being able to go along on the outing, but she didn't complain. She was so over her whiny little girl phase. Instead, she would focus on other ways to make herself useful, such as helping Willow with her locator spell.

Buffy considered the pros and cons, then finally nodded. "Okay, I'll take 'em."

"Yes!" Andrew pumped his fist.

Buffy gave him a pitying smile. "Andrew, you're not going."

"What? But why not?"

"'Cause I already have half a dozen Potentials to watch. I can't babysit you, too." Buffy got up from the table and made her way towards the kitchen to collect the girls. Unfortunately, Andrew was in a persistent mood and followed after her.

"C'mon! Lemme go with you guys!"

"Quit begging, Andrew."

"I'm not begging!" he whined.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're like a small dog dancing for Snausages."

They entered the kitchen to find the Potentials gathered around a pile of weapons on the breakfast bar. The girls watched the argument in amused curiosity.

"You don't want me coming along 'cause you think I'm evil." Andrew frowned sullenly and crossed his arms.

"He doesn't seem evil, exactly," Vi commented.

"He's not _evil_," Buffy replied, "but when he gets close to it, he picks up its flavor like a mushroom or something."

"But I'm reformed," he insisted, "I'm like Vegeta on _Dragon Ball Z_. I used to be a pure Saiyan, and now I fight on the side of Goku."

Buffy didn't even try to puzzle through that bit of incomprehensible geek trivia. "Still not coming."

"It's not fair!" Andrew all but stamped his foot, "Spike's killed people, and he gets to go."

"Spike didn't have free will," Buffy argued, "You did."

Andrew sulked. "I hate my free will."

Spike arrived a moment later from wherever he'd been hiding all this time to a chorus of "hi's" from the girls. "This where you're all hiding. We ready to go or what?" he asked with a hint of impatience.

Buffy was all too eager to get the show on the road. "Let's go, girls. Grab your weapons."

* * *

"This is a bar!" Chloe exclaimed as they were herded into Willy's.

Kennedy grinned, "Best damn field trip I ever took."

Molly's eyes widened as she noticed the bar's patrons. "Look, they're all—they're demons!"

"It's a demon bar!" Vi declared, "It's like a gay bar, only with demons."

Naturally the girls' piping voices drew attention. One particularly imposing demon stepped away from the bar and approached the group. Spike recognized him and stepped forward to intercept.

"Spike!" the creature grinned grotesquely, "Long time. Nice of you to bring snacks."

"Touch them and lose your privates," the vampire stated coldly. The demon's beady eyes narrowed, then he nodded and returned to his bar stool.

Vi hugged herself and eyed the retreating demon warily. "I don't like him."

"He seemed to like you," Spike retorted with a smirk, "Nice job of blending in, girls."

Rona snorted, "We're a buncha fifteen-year-olds in a demon bar. How much blending did you think we were gonna do?"

Buffy was quick to explain that blending in really wasn't the point. "Usually, you come to a place like this, you wanna be seen. You want to scare someone or make contact."

"Or have a strong drink?" Molly asked. The Potentials' faces lit up.

"Not really." Buffy cocked her head as if considering something. "But if you guys feel like trying something, it's fine with me."

The girls' eyes widened; they couldn't believe their luck.

"Do they card?" Vi naïvely asked.

"Nope. Go ahead," Buffy waited until they started for the bar before adding, "Down all the yak urine shots or pig's butt spritzers you like."

Spike suppressed a chuckle at the looks on the girls' faces.

"Gross," Kennedy wrinkled her nose.

"Got that right," Spike snorted in derision, playing along with the Slayer's prank, "Prices they charge, you should get human blood straight from the body." At their incredulous looks, he reminded them, "Vampire."

All joking aside, Buffy told them, "Look, if I come here, it's because I gotta wring information out of something large, scary, drunk, with a room full of friends who don't care very much for the Slayer. Remember that. Not a being in here that wouldn't gladly rip your throat out."

"Buffy?"

She turned to discover a familiar, loose-skinned, dog-faced demon approaching with his arms held wide. "Girl, how ya been!"

"Clem!" A delighted Buffy ran into the demon's welcoming hug. "You look great! So toned."

Spike overheard Kennedy whispering to Rona, "He's ripping out her throat right now."

"Oh, my god, it's so good to see you!" Clem gushed, "I saw this great show on the History Channel the other night that I knew you would love. But then something went all flooey with my TiVo."

Buffy's eyes lit up as an idea occurred to her. "Y'know what? Can I talk to you for a second?" The two of them stepped away from the group to discuss something in private.

"You think she dated him, too?" Kennedy joked.

Spike wondered what Buffy was up to. He sensed her mischievous side coming into play once again.

With a final nod, Buffy and Clem returned. "Okay, everyone," Buffy made the introductions, "This is the girls."

"Howdy!" Clem waved, then eyed the Potentials shrewdly. "So, you girls are gonna deal with demons, huh? Just let me tell you this..." He leaned towards them, beckoning in a conspiratorial manner. The girls naturally leaned closer. Then Clem showed them just what was hiding under all those wrinkly folds in his face.

Spike barely kept it together as the girls recoiled in horror.

"I could use a shot of that yak urine right about now," Vi muttered, face pale.

Next stop was an actual vampire nest. Spike had found it on his reconnaissance the night before. It was inside a derelict crypt. The vamps had been little more than squatters, and they'd been quick to pick up and leave when Spike mentioned that the Slayer would be coming by. The vampires had left in a hurry, though. They'd left quite a few signs of their presence in the abandoned nest; empty beer cans, a couple of ratty sleeping bags, a hammock in the corner. Perfect for Buffy's needs.

"A vampire is an animal," she lectured as she and Spike led their charges into the crypt, "Sometimes they run in packs, sometimes alone. Who can tell us where we are?"

The girls eyed their surroundings in varying degrees of curiosity and distaste.

"It's a nest," Rona answered.

"How can you tell?" Buffy asked.

Kennedy's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Only a vamp could live like this."

"Some, yeah," Spike responded, "As a group, we're not known for our tasteful décor, but in all fairness to the race..." he looked around with frown of disapproval, "this place is seriously lacking in style."

Buffy smiled at her lover in fond amusement. "He has a point. Vampires can live anywhere, any way they want. Tastes, fashions, living conditions—they can vary. The animal inside? Always the same."

"Where'd you live?" a curious Molly asked.

Spike blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What, you mean before? A crypt, actually, but nicer. A bit more..." he smiled, somewhat self-conscious, "I don't know if 'posh' is the right word, but it was more like—"

"Comfy," Buffy spoke up without thinking.

The teens giggled. Great. She'd just given them more ammo for their endless gossipping.

"Moving on," Buffy returned to serious teacher mode, "You want to stay alive, you have to spot and identify a nest on sight. Look around, all of you. Look for signs that last night maybe a dozen, two dozen vampires were right where we're standing. Go ahead."

At her coaxing, the girls began to explore the abandoned nest. While they did that, Buffy and Spike took advantage of the relative quiet to have an adult conversation.

"Work, work, work," Spike sighed, "This little excursion was just in danger of being interesting."

"Hey, just remember, you volunteered for this." Buffy rubbed his arm affectionately. She frowned a little, taking in his long-sleeved buttoned shirt. "There a reason you're not wearing the duster?"

The vampire shrugged. "Didn't think I'd bee needing it."

Needing it? Before she could figure out what he meant by that, Buffy noticed Molly and Chloe staring at something in an isolated corner of the crypt. From their body language, it was something unpleasant. Buffy sighed, "Y'know something, Spike? I'm thinking interesting's not gonna be a problem."

The rest of the girls began to gather around whatever it was Molly and Chloe had found. Buffy walked over to them. "What'd you find?"

"It's a body!" Molly exclaimed, morbidly fascinated.

A young man lay face-down on the floor. Probably some unlucky guy out for a walk who got snatched up before the vamps vacated the nest. Buffy knelt down beside the corpse and grabbed the collar of the man's shirt to pull him up a few inches. She saw the bite marks on his neck. She also saw the flecks of blood on his lips.

"It's not a body," she said, letting it drop back to the floor, "It's leftovers."

A moment later, the newly-risen vampire raised his head and glared at her. There were cries of "ohmigod" as the alarmed Potentials stumbled back. The fledgeling vampire slowly got to his feet, still slightly disoriented from his resurrection. His nose twitched at the tempting scent of prey and he bared his new fangs in hunger.

Buffy remained calm. She drew her stake from the sheath at the small of her back and held it at the ready.

"A-Are we safe?" a fearful Chloe stammered.

"No one's safe," Buffy answered, "Not here, not ever. You see this guy?"

"But he was dead a minute ago!" Kennedy cried.

"That was a minute ago. Now..." Buffy kicked the approaching vamp in the face.

The creature staggered from the impact and rasped an indignant, "Hey!"

"He's the enemy."

The Potentials watched in awe as the Slayer engaged the fledgeling. Even as she fought, Buffy continued to lecture, "You can't think too much. Reacting's better. Could mean the difference between staying alive and that other thing.

The question is never, 'What do you think?' It's always, 'What do you know?' You gotta know, 'cause if you don't, if you make one mistake—"

The vamp managed to knock the stake from her hand. Kennedy started forward to help, but Spike but a restraining hand on her arm. Ad his admonishing head-shake, Kennedy stayed put, though she fidgeted in frustration.

Buffy didn't try to retrieve the stake right away. She only grabbed for it when she'd beaten the fledgeling back to a safe enough distance. Many a Slayer in the past had gotten herself killed while going for a fallen weapon and leaving herself with a vulnerable opening for a vamp to exploit. That was how Spike killed his first Slayer in China.

"It takes just one vampire to kill you," Buffy continued, "One vampire having one good day."

Spike chuckled silently.

"So you've gotta know you can take him. Know your environment. Know what's around you and know how to use it. In the hands of a Slayer, _everything_ is a potential weapon, if you know how to see it. When you're fighting, you have to know yourself—your brain, your body. Know how to stay calm, centered. Every move is important. Every blow's gotta be part of your plan. If you make that one mistake, then it's over. You're not the Slayer. You're not a Potential. You're dead."

At Buffy's wordless prompting, Spike subtly began to make his way towards the crypt's entrance. The girls didn't notice, too caught up in the show Buffy was putting on for them. Then Buffy began to back herself towards the door, leading the vampire closer to the Potentials in the process.

"So, what do you know?" she challenged, "See now, the only thing you know for sure?" A solid kick sent the vamp flying across the room. Instead of giving chase, Buffy shocked the girls by abruptly dropping her stake. "You got me," she concluded. Then she and Spike were shutting the crypt's double doors, leaving the Potentials trapped inside with the fledgeling.

Buffy put her back against the door and leaned her head back, eyes closed. Already she heard the battle being waged inside the crypt. Shouts and frightened cries from the girls, enraged snarls from the vampire. Buffy reached out and felt relief when Spike's cool hand enveloped hers.

"Sink or swim," she muttered.

It was all over in a matter of minutes, but they were some of the longest minutes of Buffy's life. She heard the vamp's scream, the distinctive _whoosh_ of its dusting, then the victorious whoops and cheers of the Potentials. Buffy released Spike's hand and turned to open the doors. She made sure to look as if she'd expected this outcome all along.

* * *

When they got home, Buffy was abruptly cornered by the frantic Scoobies who told her that Dawn was in danger. Willow's spell for finding the Potential had apparently indicated that Dawn was the very girl they were looking for. Dawn understandably freaked out at this revelation, but instead of hiding out in her room as the others had believed, the girl had sneaked out through her bedroom window for some reason. Willow and Tara performed a locator spell to find her; she was at the high school.

Buffy and Spike jumped into Xander's car and the carpenter sped them over to the school. They discovered they'd arrived none too soon, as Dawn and another girl were being attacked by Bringers as well as a vampire. Buffy and Spike took care of the Bringers, while the girl—Amanda, Buffy realized with amazement—fought the vampire with a broken flagpole for a weapon. She used the splintered end to stab the vamp in the chest and the teen gaped as the creature dusted in front of her.

Buffy snapped the neck of the last remaining Bringer, then stared in amazement at the girl. Amanda had fought with way too much natural skill to be an ordinary teenager.

"Okay," Amanda's voice was faint with shock, "One minute I'm in Swing Choir, and the next... What the hell is going on?" She glared almost angrily at the blonde woman. "You tell me to come to you with problems. Turns out a vampire attacked me. _Problem._ So I go to your house, only when I get there, this orange cloud hits me."

"She was at the doorway," Dawn said, voice subdued.

"And I don't know if your into the drugs, but that's not my deal, alright?" Amanda blurted, "That cloud hit me, and I got a little dizzy and discombobulated."

"It was Willow's spell," Dawn explained, "She's the Potential Slayer."

They gave Amanda a ride home. Buffy would need to come up with a plausible lie to convince the girl's parents to let Amanda move in with the rest of the Potentials. Maybe some kind of specialized after-school program or something.

The next day, Amanda came over to meet her fellow Potentials. The girls were somewhat in awe of the fact that she'd dusted a vampire on her own. Pretty soon the teens were all bonding over their adventures.

All of them but Dawn. She stood apart from them, watching Amanda quickly becoming part of the group.

Buffy approached, on her way to take the girls to the basement for their lessons. She smiled at her younger sister. "Hey. You okay?" she asked, picking up on the girl's subdued mood.

Dawn visibly drew herself up. "Yeah. I was thinking of hitting the books, do some research on the First. It's in retreat mode right now, but you're still gonna need to know how to fight it."

"Great. Sounds good." She turned her attention to the Potentials. "Hey, you guys. You wanna head downstairs, get your newest arrival up to speed?"

The happily chatting girls all followed the Slayer to the basement. Dawn walked over to the dining table—their main place of research—and picked up one of the books from the stack to be read. After a few moments of silent reading, she asked without looking up, "What's up?"

Xander smiled. He'd been leaning against the doorway, watching Dawn study. He sauntered over and sat himself down in the empty chair beside her. "I'm just thinking about the girls. It's a harsh gig, being a Potential. Just being picked out of a crowd. Danger, destiny. Plus, if you act now, death."

"They can handle it."

"Yeah. They're special, no doubt," Xander agreed, "And the amazing this is, not one of them will ever know. Not even Buffy."

Unseen by either of them, Spike paused on his way to the kitchen and remained out of site around the corner. He didn't know why he was eavesdropping exactly, except there was something about Harris's voice in that moment that compelled him to listen.

"Know what?" Dawn asked.

Xander paused for just a second before he answered, "How much harder it is for the rest of us."

"No way. They've got—"

"Seven years, Dawn," Xander stated solemnly, "Working with the Slayer, seeing my friends get more and more powerful. A witch, a demon. Hell, I could fit Oz in my shaving kit, but come a full moon, he had a wolfy mojo not to be messed with. Powerful. All of them. And I'm the guy who fixes the windows." There was no self-pity in his tone, just simple resignation.

Still, Dawn tried to put things in a better light, "Well, you had that sexy army training for a while, a-and the windows really did need fixing."

"I saw what you did last night," Xander said.

"Yeah, I..." Dawn sighed, embarrassed, "I guess I kind of lost my head when I thought I was the Slayer."

"You thought you were all special. And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause," Xander's voice held a note of pride, "You gave her your power."

"The power wasn't mine," Dawn stated, unwilling to take credit for something that was never hers to give up.

"They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie. To be the one who _isn't _chosen, to live so near the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes, because nobody's watching me," he chuckled, self-deprecating, then continued in all seriousness, "I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special." Xander smiled tenderly at the girl. "You're extraordinary."

Hearing these insightful words, these words that Dawn had so needed to hear from someone, Spike finally understood why Buffy was friends with Harris. Because, yeah, he was an idiot at times, acting without thinking. But he was also the heart of the group. And it was a good heart.

"Maybe that's your power," Dawn said, blinking back tears of gratitude.

"What?" Xander asked.

"Seeing. Knowing."

"Maybe it is," he smiled, "Maybe I should get a cape."

"A cape is good."

As Dawn returned to her studying with a greater sense of purpose, Xander left the room and noticed Spike leaning against the wall, well within earshot. He met the vampire's gaze and for once felt none of the usual hostility. Neither man said a word, but both nodded to each other in a new understanding.


	14. Chapter 14: The Killer In Me

**A/N:** This chapter is brought to you today by the letter M. ;-)

Happy reading and thanks for the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Well, she believes that time can make things right_

_And I want to believe that there's been a change in me_

_And I hope that she believes_

_Yes, I wonder if she sees the killer inside me_

_The lights go down_

_And the clouds are building outside_

_You close the door and turn the key_

_But there's no place to hide_

_And I hope that she believes_

_Yes, I wonder if she sees the killer inside me_

-Better Than Ezra, "The Killer Inside"

It had been a rough week. More Potentials were arriving by the day. Then a nasty flu ran through the household like wildfire. Even Buffy, who rarely if ever got sick, didn't come out unscathed. While she wasn't bedridden like the more serious cases, the Slayer's head had been all stuffy and congested for what felt like forever. It left her with a somewhat croaky voice that Spike thought sounded adorable.

Once all the Potentials got over the bug, Giles got them ready to go out on the ritual vision quest. The same kind of vision quest Buffy went on during the struggle against Glory. For the girls, it was an adventure. For everybody else, it was a mini-vacation from the responsibilities of caring for a dozen or so overactive teenagers.

Buffy and Dawn relaxed on the couch, Buffy sipping tea, while Giles scurried about in his last-minute fussing, wondering if he'd forgotten everything. The girls were already waiting for him in the car.

Giles finally paused by the couch and asked, "Are you sure you'll all be alright?"

"You'll only be gone for two days," Dawn reminded him.

"I think we've managed a bit longer than that," Buffy smiled at the anxious Watcher.

"Right." Giles glanced around, then rolled his eyes when he noticed something. "Oh, Dawn, Vi's left her notebook on the mantlepiece. Would you mind running it out to the car? While you're at it, smack her on the head with it and remind her not to leave it lying around."

"On it." Dawn got up, retrieved the notebook, and disappeared out the front door.

Giles sat down on the edge of the coffee table with a weary sigh. "I'm just a little bit twitchy about leaving you alone again here while—while things are...in such a state of flux," he said, removing his glasses to rub his tired eyes.

Buffy gave him a sympathetic look. "I know. But you should go. This trip is important for the girls to understand the source of their power, and to know how to use it right."

"I don't think they appreciate the gravity of what we're undertaking. It's frightening and it's difficult," he eyed the Slayer sidelong, "And then, apparently, _someone_ told them that the vision quest consists of me driving them into the desert, doing the hokey-pokey, until a spooky Rasta-mama Slayer arrives and speaks to them in riddles."

Buffy pursed her lips and turned her eyes away. "That's not _exactly_ how I put it."

At that moment, Willow came trotting down the stairs. Seizing on the distraction, Buffy greeted the redhead, "Hey! How's Tara?"

"Still 'fluey.'" Tara had been one of the hardest hit by the illness. At one point they were worried she might come down with pneumonia, but luckily her fever broke the other night and she was now on the mend.

The front door opened again to admit Xander, Anya, and Dawn. There was a distant sound of numerous teen voices shouting in the distance.

"Giles, you might wanna get out there," Xander warned.

Giles groaned, "Oh, god. What?"

"Molly and Rona are fighting over who gets to drive the first leg," Dawn informed him as she walked past.

Buffy smirked at the Watcher's obvious distress. "Bet you wish you'd renewed that California State driver's license now, huh?"

"Rona won," Anya announced before Giles could respond to the Slayer's ribbing, "You should probably let Molly out of the trunk. I never actually realized just how compact Molly really is."

Giles stood, a long-suffering look on his face. "Just please be safe while I'm away."

"You too," Buffy waved as he left to corral his excitable charges. The silence of the house was almost deafening after weeks of constant noise. Buffy finished her tea and lay her head back against the couch, eyes closed, to savor the quiet. After a moment, she got up and went upstairs.

Spike was in their room, sitting up in bed with a book propped against one knee. He smiled and set it aside when Buffy entered. "They gone?"

She nodded, "Yep."

"Thank god," he groaned in relief, "Give us all a chance for a breather, eh?"

"From Giles?" Buffy smirked.

"From the constant pitter-patter of clomping teenage girlie feet."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Buffy stated primly.

The vampire snorted, "Oh, come off it."

"No, I enjoy my responsibility as mentor, role model, life guide—Oh, my _god!_" she let herself flop down across the foot of the bed, face-down, "I cannot believe I have my bathroom all to myself for two whole days!"

Spike chuckled and reached down to rub her back. "It's like a bloody war zone out there, and not in the good way."

Buffy turned her head enough for one eye to peek up at him through the loose strands of blonde hair. "Have you seen the kitchen since they've been here?"

The vampire grimaced, "I'm just tryin' to stay out of their way."

"You know," Buffy rolled onto her back, smiling lazily up at him, "with the girls all gone for the next couple of days, we won't have to worry about them busting through the door every five minutes with their problems. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself."

Spike grinned, shifting his position so that he leaned over her. "I can think of a few things we can do to pass the time."

"Oh?" she smiled coquettishly, "Like what?"

"Lemme demonstrate." Spike started to lower his lips towards hers, then abruptly froze, his face tense.

Buffy frowned, puzzled by this strange behavior. "Spike?"

"Ow." Spike twitched. His eyes widened and his hands flew to the sides of his head. He fell back on the bed, the heels of his hands pressing against his temples. "Ow-ow-_ow!_"

Buffy sat up in alarm and reached out to him. "What's wrong? Spike, what is going on?"

"The chip," Spike panted, eyes squeezed shut, "Oh, god. Why would...?" His back suddenly arched as a scream erupted from him. Buffy flinched when an echo of his pain reached her through the link.

"Spike!" She put her arms around him, holding him close while he suffered through the agony. Tears of frustration and fear stung her eyes. She didn't know how she could help him.

The chip kept going off in fits and bursts, sometimes lasting only a second, sometimes almost as long as a minute. Pretty soon everybody who was still in the house knew what was going on. The constant screams were kind of a giveaway. Unfortunately, nobody else had any ideas on how to help Spike, either.

Buffy descended the stairs a few hours later, a bloodied rag clutched in one hand. She went into the kitchen, dropped the rag into the trash, then went to the cupboard where they kept the rest of the clean dishrags. Willow was there as well, brewing a cup of tea. The redhead offered her a concerned smile. "Hey. How is he?"

Buffy sighed and sat down at the breakfast bar, her hands toying with the clean rag. "In the 'goes' part of 'comes and goes.'"

"Well, there seems to be a definite lack of screaming. That has to be good."

"You'd think," Buffy muttered. She pointed at the steaming cup. "That for the other patient?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah. Thought I'd bring Tara some tea. Help her feel better."

"Wil?" Buffy chewed her lip, "How much do you know about the chip?"

Willow frowned in thought. "Well, I remember trying to dig up stuff back then, but, y'know, turns out when a secret government agency studies vampires and puts chips in their brains to keep them from hurting people, they don't really build websites. Why?"

"Even with the chip Spike was able to hurt all those people when he was under that spell."

"Yeah, but he was under control of the medallion," the witch pointed out, "Who knows how that might've affected his brain?"

"Maybe something's wrong with it," Buffy half-whispered.

"His brain?"

Buffy mock-scowled at her friend's weak attempt at a joke. "The chip."

"Gotta be misfiring all on its own, then." Willow's eyebrows rose in false excitement. "Well, this'll be fun."

Buffy smiled ruefully. "Remember when things used to be nice and boring?"

The redhead pretended to give this some thought. "No."

With a final smile, Willow carried the tea up to Tara and Buffy returned to Spike.

The vampire's eyes were red-rimmed, blood seeping from his nose. A few drops had fallen onto the pillowcase before Buffy was able to gently wipe it away.

"Popped another blood vessel, I think," Spike's tone was strangely matter-of-fact, "Gettin' bloody tired of bein' the damsel in distress."

"There's gotta be a reason why the chip is going all wonky," Buffy muttered, "Maybe it's related to when Amy was controlling you. Or maybe it has something to do with the Claim."

"Or maybe I wasn't meant to last this long." Leave it to Spike to state the uncomfortable truth. "One more thing you and I have in common, eh, pet?" he remarked with an ironic smile.

Buffy swallowed, the soreness in her throat no longer attributable to her cold. "Well, we'll fix it," she declared, trying to sound confident, "We'll hit serious research mode—"

"Good. Try _Behavior Modification Software Throughout the Ages_."

Buffy's mouth twitched at his sarcastic suggestion. "Okay. You're right. Not a book thing," her eyebrows lifted as a thought occurred, "It's a phone thing."

"Who you gonna call?"

They both stilled for a second, then broke down in laughter.

"God, that phrase is never gonna be usable again, is it?" Spike chuckled.

Giggling, Buffy shook her head, "Doubt it."

When they recovered from their bout of hysteria, Spike followed Buffy out of the bedroom and sat on the stairs while she dialed the emergency number she had been given a few years ago. The vampire was tired of waiting around in bed, plus he wanted to listen in, in case Buffy succeeded in getting a hold of the party in question.

"Yes, Agent Finn," she spoke to whoever had answered her call, "Riley. Tell him we're having a problem with Spike's chip. No, his _chip_. Spike." She rolled her eyes in impatience.

Spike sighed; this was the third time Buffy had repeated her story. These wankers were giving her the runaround. "Listen, Buffy..."

"No, no. Finn is his last name. Yeah," Buffy frowned, "Well, d-did he used to work there and maybe he got transferred? Oh."

Spike gasped as another jolt of pain lanced through his skull. Buffy hurried over to him, even though she couldn't do much more than offer emotional comfort. She squeezed his shoulder with her free hand, the other still holding the phone to her ear. She half-listened to something the person on the other end said and her confusion grew. "W—Is this actually a flower shop, o-or is this one of those things where I'm supposed to play along to show that I know it's really secret ops?" she winced, "Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Um, okay. Right, uh... Well, i-if some guy named Finn shows up to buy flowers— Yeah, thanks."

She pressed the "end call" button and gazed down at the hunched over vampire. "Wrong number. Or a giant government conspiracy."

When he didn't respond, her worry grew. "Spike? A-Are you...?"

Spike straightened, drawing in a slow breath. His eyes were watering. "This one seemed easier than the others," he said, more from denial than honesty, "See? Probably just gonna fade—" His body convulsed, a scream ripped from his throat.

"Oh, god. Spike, it's gonna be okay," Buffy sobbed, hugging him close and rocking them back and forth, "You're gonna be okay."

It seemed like forever before the tension finally left him. Spike's head lolled back and his bleary eyes cracked open. "Buffy?"

She kissed his forehead. "I'm right here."

"The chip fired again," he rasped.

"I kinda figured," she mustered a faint smile, "Maybe they'll call back. Maybe they'll send help."

Spike took a deep breath, his voice noticeably steadier when he spoke again, "Maybe we can't wait."

* * *

The Scoobies offered to come along, but Buffy didn't want to have to worry about them if they ran into any trouble. She and Spike took a couple of flashlights and made their way to the isolated place not far from the University campus where Spike had originally escaped the Initiative. Buffy was surprised that it was night already; the hours had blurred while she'd ineffectually looked after her suffering boyfriend.

"Are you sure you still wanna go back in this place with me?" Spike asked. Neither one of them relished the idea of returning to that hellhole. He bloody well hadn't thought to ever see that sodding lab ever again.

Buffy feigned boredom, "Eh, nothing good on TV tonight."

Spike smiled in spite of the direness of his situation. Truthfully, he was grateful to have her along.

His flashlight beam played over a familiar arrangement of large stones on the ground. "Here we are."

"Yep, here we are. Do you think this stuff's still good?" Buffy asked as they started digging through the soft dirt with their hands.

"I don't know. It worked pretty good when the Initiative held me captive here," Spike told her, "Every time I'd get a little...rambunctious...the chip would kick in and I'd feel like my head was gonna explode. They'd dope me up and everything would be all daffodils and teddy bears. For a couple of hours, anyway."

Buffy tasted bile at the thought of what he'd been put through. She was ashamed of how easily she jumped onto the Initiative bandwagon, how naïve she was to believe they were actually doing good with their sick experiments. All because she'd had a thing for Riley. God, she couldn't believe how stupid she was!

A touch on her arm drew her thoughts back to the present. She looked at the vampire's reassuring smile. "It's in the past, luv."

Buffy nodded; she needed to focus on right now, not the foolish errors of her past. "Maybe we should search for files and stuff. Find out everything we can about the chip. Shelf life."

"I'll take whatever I can get." Spike unearthed the chain that was attached to the hidden door. He and Buffy both gripped the chain and pulled with all their considerable strength. When the Initiative left, they'd supposedly filled the entire hidden compound in with concrete. In reality, all they did was cover the entrances with a layer of cement to seal the place up. As Spike and Buffy pulled on the chain, there was a crack of breaking masonry, then the trapdoor flew open. A cloud of cement dust rose up and chunks of broken concrete showered down on the unseen floor below. Buffy and Spike shone their flashlights down to make sure the area was relatively clear before they jumped in.

Spike wrinkled his nose at the stench that lingered in the air. Judging from the suppressed gags, Buffy picked up on the odor as well. As they went deeper into the abandoned compound, their flashlight beams came upon numerous corpses scattered around. Some wore lab coats or uniforms, some were obviously nonhuman. All of them were in advanced stages of decay.

"Oh, god," Buffy choked, appalled by the grisly sight, "They just left 'em."

Hadn't even given their own people the benefit of a decent burial. Spike shook his head in disgust.

"I'm thinkin' brief stay," Buffy suggested.

"Yeah. You're not wrong." Spike turned a corner, saw a familiar door. "I think I can get us to the med lab. Find the drug."

Without electricity to power the security locks, the door swung open without resistance. The going got more treacherous as they entered the med lab area. Broken equipment and hulking machinery littered the halls. Spike felt like a rat wandering through a maze.

The couple froze at the sound of a distant clatter.

"D'you hear that?" Spike whispered.

Buffy nodded, the movement barely noticeable in the darkness. "Yep."

"Think something survived?"

Another sound, like something large scuttling across the floor.

"Sounds like."

Spike strained his eyes, but even his enhanced vision couldn't pick anything out in the almost pitch-blackness. "Do you see where?"

"No," Buffy pointed her flashlight down a corridor that branched off from theirs, "But it sounded like it was coming from over there. Whatever it is, it's not—"

Something flew out of the darkness and collided with the blonde. Her flashlight clattered to the floor, casting crazy shadows over the walls as it rolled.

"Buffy!"

Spike made out her silhouette fighting with something. He moved to help her when lightning seemed to go off in his head. "Oh, god, no. Not now!"

The thud of the vampire's collapse drew the surviving demon's attention. The creature was hideously deformed from whatever experiments it had undergone at the government's hands. That, combined with the long isolation and gradual starvation, had driven the demon insane.

"Spike!" Buffy cried as the monster flung her aside.

The demon scuttled over to the fallen vamp and dragged him off by the ankle. The situation was so similar to what Spike had gone through when the First took him that for a pain-addled moment he thought he was back in that cavern with the Turok-Han about to torture him. A whimper of fear escaped him.

Buffy clambered to her feet, snatched up her flashlight, and hurried in the direction that she sensed Spike had been taken. She strained her eyes and ears, but didn't pick up any sign of the demon or the vampire. "Spike?"

The demon appeared from nowhere, hissing in rage. Buffy tried to hit it, but it grabbed her wrist and dashed it against the wall, knocking the flashlight from her grip once again. The demon then lifted her over its head and flung her over a nearby science console. As the creature jumped after her, Buffy grabbed the first thing her fingers came across and leapt to her feet. Luckily, the items she'd found was a long metal pole. She whacked the demon over the head with it. The demon grabbed the pole and used it to spin her around and shove her against the console. Buffy kicked the creature away, then drove the end of the pole through its chest. There was a final, gurgling roar, and then the monster stilled.

Buffy left the body where it was and used the Claim to guide her to where Spike lay. She dropped to her knees beside him, ran her hand gently through his white-blonde hair. "Hey. Are you still with us?" she murmured.

Spike's eyes stayed closed as he responded in the barest whisper, "Yeah."

Relieved, Buffy smiled and said, "Well, that guy was—"

The compound was suddenly flooded with light, causing them both to squint painfully. Buffy looked up at the second level, saw dozens of uniformed men pointing weapons down at them. "Just the beginning," she finished.

The only soldier not pointing a weapon spoke up in an authoritative voice, "Miss Summers. Agent Finn reported that you tried to contact him earlier today."

"I knew it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, "Government conspiracy."

At a gesture from the leader, the soldiers lowered their weapons and started down the stairs. "He indicated you might be needing our assistance," the man informed her, "We're to provide you anything you need to help 'assface' here."

Buffy blinked. Spike managed to quirk an eyebrow.

"Those were his exact words, ma'am," the leader clarified.

A stretcher was brought over and two of the soldiers carefully loaded Spike onto it. Buffy hovered anxiously at his side as they were taken to an area of the med lab that had apparently been tidied up in preparation for their arrival. Buffy watched as the vampire was placed onto an exam table and several medics began looking him over. She felt Spike's distrust, but so far the doctors weren't doing anything harmful. Buffy silently promised him that at the slightest hint of distress, she'd come in swinging.

After what seemed like hours, the leader—whose name Buffy had heard and forgotten in the span of a second—approached to tell her the results. "Med team tells me they took a look at the chip. You were right. It's degraded. Leave it as it is much longer and it'll be fatal to him."

Even though she'd expected as much, the news still came as a blow. It was a struggle for Buffy to keep her voice steady, "Okay. So, h-how long 'til—"

"Now, ma'am," the man answered, almost kindly.

"Right, of course," she sighed, fidgeted in uncertainty, "Um... What do we do next?"

"Agent Finn said it was your call, ma'am."

She blinked. "My— What was my call?"

"All decisions regarding Hostile Seventeen are to be left in your hands," the man explained, "His chip, we can either repair it, or remov—"

"Take it out of him."

The man seemed caught off-guard by the fact that she didn't even pause to consider her answer. "Are you sure that's your final decision, ma'am?" he didn't ask as if he thought she was making a mistake; only making sure that she was certain.

Buffy nodded. "Yes."

"Very well." The man gave the order to the medics.

As the doctors prepared to operate, Buffy went to Spike's side. She took his hand in hers and smiled down at him. "Hey. You hear? You're getting your chip out."

The vampire gave her an exhausted smile. "Thank you."

Buffy leaned down, kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you."

As Spike was wheeled away to the operating room, Buffy sat on a chair somebody scrounged up for her and prepared for the long, unbearable wait.

* * *

Spike couldn't stop smiling. For years he'd felt as if he were walking around in chains, and now they were gone. He was free.

He looked at the woman walking hand-in-hand with him. She was the reason he no longer had a leash shoved in his brain. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly love her any more than he already did.

Buffy smiled at him, sharing in his joy. In a burst of childish glee, the two of them ran the rest of the way home, laughing all the way. When they arrived at the house, it was almost sunrise, and there was not a sign of anyone else inside.

"Hello?" Buffy called out, straining her ears for the slightest response. Where was everybody? She turned to Spike with a grin on her face. "Looks like we're all alone."

Without warning, Spike scooped the petite woman up, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran up the stairs. Buffy shrieked and tried to squirm out of his grip. "Spike! Put me down," she laughed, punching at his lower back, "You just had surgery!"

Ignoring her half-serious protests, Spike burst through the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind them, locking it for good measure. Only then did he set Buffy down and the two of them immediately started tearing at their clothes. It had been way too long since they'd last been intimate; not since before the First abducted Spike. After a couple of failed attempts at undressing each other, they laughed and removed their own clothes instead. When the last item of clothing hit the floor, Buffy reached up to untie her ponytail and shook out her long, golden hair. Spike tangled his fingers in her blonde tresses and pulled her into a deep, almost violent kiss. His breath came out in heaving gasps. Buffy loved knowing she had that affect on him, that she brought his emotions into such a frenzy to make his dead lungs feel starved for oxygen.

Without breaking the kiss, Buffy jumped and wrapped her legs around Spike's waist. Spike stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it, landing face-up so that Buffy was on top of him. Buffy left his lips to trail open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, down the column of his throat. She ran her tongue over his nipples and traced the contours of his abs, nipped at the sensitive skin of his belly and licked the hollows of his hips.

"Buffy...Buffy..." Spike's back arched as she engulfed him with her mouth. "Agh! Bloody hell!"

Buffy smiled around the hardness in her mouth. She relaxed her throat and took him in as deep as she could, then hummed.

"Oh, god! Buffy, stop, I'm gonna—"

In an impressive show of Slayer reflexes, Buffy abruptly released his member and swiftly straddled him, impaling herself on his length an instant before he came with a roar. Spike's hands grabbed her hips with bruising force and slammed her down onto him. He flipped them so that Buffy was under him, but instead of pounding into her as she expected, he slid his still-hard length in and out of her at a slow, steady pace. "Open up to me," he whispered in her ear.

Buffy relaxed and let all her barriers down. Her Claim mark tingled as their emotions merged. She felt her soul in him, felt his demon in her. They were perfect, balanced, complete. Buffy pulled Spike's head down and sank her teeth into his Claim mark. As his blood filled her mouth and his fangs penetrated her own Claim mark, her brain whited out in the most intense climax she'd ever experienced.

She came down from her high with Spike's weight upon her. His contented purr vibrated against her chest.

"You bit me," he mumbled.

"Yeah." She licked her lips, tasted traces of his blood. She'd never done that before; bit him hard enough to draw blood. She wondered why it didn't freak her out.

Spike turned his head to lightly kiss her mark, then reluctantly rolled off of her and pulled her close. She rested her head on his chest, smiled at the rise and fall of his unneeded breaths and the lack of a heartbeat. "God, I needed this," she sighed happily.

Spike chuckled. He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head. "How d'you think the others will take it? Me not havin' the chip anymore?"

"They'll deal. I know you won't hurt anyone except in self-defense."

The vampire smiled. "Puttin' a lotta faith in me, luv."

"I know you."

"Yeah. You do." He tilted her head back and kissed her slow and deep.


	15. Chapter 15: First Date

**A/N: **Nice long chapter today. Thanks for the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_When you smile, I melt inside_

_I'm not worthy for a minute of your time_

_I really wish it was only me and you_

_I'm jealous of everybody in the room_

_Please don't look at me with those eyes_

_Please don't hint that you're capable of lies_

-Blink 182, "First Date"

Buffy heard from the others what they'd been up to while she and Spike were taking care of his chip problem. A surviving Watcher had called the house saying he might have seen Giles about to be killed before he passed out from his injuries, so Xander, Dawn, Anya, and Andrew all piled into the car and drove out to the desert to find out if Giles was actually the First. They were pretty straightforward about it; all tackling him at once to see whether or not he was go-through-able. Which was how the very much alive Giles found himself at the bottom of a dog-pile in the middle of the night being poked and prodded.

Meanwhile, Tara had spent her recovery trying to come up with a locator spell for Amy that the other witch wouldn't know how to block. Luckily, Tara had found a single strand of hair tangled up in the chain of the mind-controlling medallion. She used the hair in a seldom-used homing spell and when it seemed to work, she and Willow were so impatient to catch Amy before she could get away that the two of them rushed out to confront her. Unfortunately, Amy managed to slip away, and there were no more hairs to use for the homing spell. The two women were devastated, feeling like they'd let Buffy down. She was just grateful neither of them got hurt.

There were quite a few mixed reactions to the news that Spike no longer had the chip. Dawn was happy, Anya indifferent. Willow and Tara were a tiny bit nervous, but supportive. Xander was rather vocal in his disapproval before he resigned himself to the situation. The Potentials weren't sure what to think, since they hadn't known about the chip to begin with. And Giles... Buffy wasn't sure what he was thinking. She'd expected a lot of grim frowns and some stern lectures about making rash decisions based on emotional attachments, but the Watcher remained silent. Buffy figured he wanted to speak to her about it in private, so she awaited the inevitable confrontation with butterflies in her stomach.

Giles entered her room as she was getting ready for work. Buffy was sitting at her vanity, putting in some large hoop earrings she didn't wear very often. She saw him in the corner of her eye, leaning against the doorjamb. _Here it comes_, she thought.

"You know this is dangerous," he stated calmly.

Buffy decided to pretend to misunderstand. "Ah, you just heard the horror stories. Wear hoops, they'll catch on something, rip your lobe off. Lobes flyin' everywhere."

Giles sighed, "That's not what I'm talking about."

Buffy finally looked at him as she finished putting in the last earring. "You mean Spike not having a chip."

"You understand why I have to ask," Giles stated in a reasonable tone of voice, "It's crucial that we keep these girls safe. Are you certain having Spike's chip removed was the wisest decision?"

"It wasn't spur-of-the-moment, Giles," she answered, just as reasonable, "I'd been thinking about having that thing taken out of him for a long time."

Giles moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. With a weary sigh, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It's just that I-I can't count the dangers. The First, the Bringers, random demons, and now possibly Spike?"

"And the principal," Buffy muttered.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing much," she explained, "He was in the school basement holding a shovel, acting kind of evasive. Plus he's got that whole 'too charming to be real' thing going on. I'm looking into it."

Giles smiled and replaced his glasses. "Well, that sounds very responsible of you. Balances out the 'vampire on the loose' issue."

"It's not an issue," Buffy calmly argued, "Besides, Spike had a chip before, remember? When the First had Amy make him kill and sire all those people."

"We have no idea if the chip was working then," Giles retorted, "A new chip might restrain him should he decide to start snacking on live humans again."

"Spike has me and the Claim, now. We share a soul. That's what's gonna stop him from hurting people."

"And you believe that's enough." Buffy could see that Giles wasn't being stubborn. If anything, he looked like he wanted her to convince him.

"He can be a good man, Giles. He _is_ a good man," she stated with total conviction, "And he got there on his own. He didn't need the chip for that. When Spike had that chip, it was like having him in a muzzle. It was wrong. You can't beat evil by doing evil."

After a thoughtful nod, Giles got back to his feet and headed for the door. "Well, I hope you're right."

"I-I know trusting a vampire isn't easy for you. Everything you were taught, things that happened..." Angel's name hung unspoken between them. "I just need you to trust _me,_ Giles."

The older man gave her a fatherly smile. "I do."

Relieved, Buffy felt her shoulders relax and she smiled at Giles's retreating back. That's one problem averted. Now to check out the principal.

* * *

Later at work, Buffy took the first opportunity to sneak into Principal Wood's office while he was out. She riffled through some papers on his desk, looked for anything suspicious inside the drawers. "Now, if I were a sign of being evil, where would I be?" she wondered.

Her gaze fell upon a set of cabinet doors on the far wall. For whatever reason, evil masterminds always seemed to have cabinets with false backs where they kept all their deadly paraphernalia. Part of her idly wondered if they all used the same contractor to build those things. As she approached the suspicious doors, Principal Wood suddenly returned to the office.

"Buffy?"

She jumped back guiltily. "Uh, Principal Wood! It's you." _Oh, real smooth, Summers._

"You lookin' for something?"

Buffy spouted the first thing she thought of, "File folders. And mechanical pencils. I, uh, wanna write on a file folder with a mechanical pencil."

Wood pointed over his shoulder with his left hand; his other hand stayed in his hip pocket. "The supply cabinet in the outer office has those things."

"Oh, this isn't a supply cabinet?" she innocently pointed at the doors, "My bad. Okay, thanks!"

As she tried to hurry out the door without seeming to be hurrying, the principal brought her to a halt with, "Hey, Buffy?"

She froze, managed to keep her cool as she turned to face him. "Yeah?"

He seemed oddly nervous as he asked her, "Um, what are you doing tonight?"

"Preparing for tomorrow's counseling sessions," was Buffy's diligent response.

The principal smiled. "No, really."

Buffy's eyes turned down in embarrassment, "Watching a reality show about a millionaire." That was a lie as well, but it wasn't like she could tell him that she was training a bunch of girls to do battle with the forces of evil—and, if she had a chance and wasn't too exhausted, squeeze in some snuggle-time with her vampire boyfriend.

Principal Wood surprised her by saying, "Well, then, I'd like to take you out to dinner, if that's alright with you. I mean, you don't _have_ to. I'm certainly not saying 'Come to dinner if you enjoy having a job.'" He chuckled, then when his words sank in, hastily added, "Y'know, I may have to make up a little document saying I didn't just say that and have you sign it."

Buffy sure as hell hadn't expected to be asked on a date, but once the initial shock wore off, she realized this might be an opportunity to glean some information from him. Or at least find out if he was, in fact, evil. "Sure," she replied, "I-I'd be happy to have dinner with you."

Wood looked pleased, and maybe a little excited. "Great. I'll draw up the paperwork."

Buffy was halfway back to her cubicle before it occurred to her that she would have to tell Spike about this. She groaned.

* * *

"So, another man asked you on a date, and you say yes."

Buffy winced. Somehow, the fact that Spike sounded all calm and reasonable only made the jealousy and resentment that emanated from him that much more guilt-inducing. Which was probably the point.

The two of them were sitting on the couch, Buffy with her feet tucked under her, Spike with his arms crossed and a sullen expression on his face. The curtains were drawn over the windows to blot out the sunlight. The sounds of the Potentials doing their exercises in the backyard could be dimly heard. Buffy almost wished they were finished so the girls could stampede in and put this uncomfortable conversation to an end.

"I told you, it's not a real date."

"Right," he snorted, "You're 'investigating.' Nothin' like fishing for information over a romantic candlelit dinner."

"Spiiike," Buffy's voice held a note of pleading, "D'you really think I'd ever be interested in another guy? Don't you trust me?"

Spike's features softened a little and he reached out to grip her hand. "'Course I trust you, luv," he squeezed her hand, "I just don't trust _him_."

Buffy smiled and shifted closer to lean against his shoulder. "Well, you don't have anything to worry about. _So_ not interested. I mean, he's way older than me. And he's bald."

Spike looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "_I'm_ older than you by like a hundred years."

"Yeah, but you're not bald." She reached up with her free hand to muss his peroxided hair. Spike batted her hand away and tried to fix the damage, much to Buffy's amusement.

Willow entered the living room with a basket of clean laundry. "Hey, guys. Mind if I do some folding in here?"

"Sure. Go ahead." Buffy scooted a little so that Willow could set the basket down on the couch.

As she started folding the laundry and laying it out on the coffee table, the redhead casually asked, "Did I hear you guys say something about a date?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Apparently, the possibly evil principal asked Buffy out to dinner."

Willow's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Isn't that weird? I mean, he's a _principal_. He's a youngish, hot principal with earrings—who I'm totally _not_ interested in!" she added hastily for the vampire's benefit, "But he's a _principal_."

Spike sighed, resigning himself to sitting through the girl-talk. It was either that or leave the room, and truth be told, he was too comfy at the moment with Buffy curled up against him on the couch. Lately, things were so hectic that opportunities to just idly sit together were too rare to pass up. Besides, sometimes he found Buffy's conversations with her friends kind of entertaining.

"Why do you think he asked me out?" Buffy asked her best friend, "He could be interested, right?"

Willow nodded, "Yeah, sure. You're a frisky vixen."

Spike grinned and Buffy elbowed him to curb his dirty thoughts.

"O-Or it could be work related," Buffy ventured, "Maybe I'm being promoted for doing such a good job."

Willow laughed. Then she realized Buffy was serious and stammered, "Oh, right. That—That makes sense, too."

Buffy didn't even have to look to know that Spike was holding back a laugh. She elbowed him again.

"Or maybe he knows that you suspect he's up to something and he's taking you out to kill you," the vampire suggested.

"You'll have to dress for the ambiguity," Willow advised her friend.

Buffy sighed, "You know, it's not even that he's acting that suspicious. It's just, there he is, on the Hellmouth, all day every day. That's gotta be like being showered with evil. Only from underneath."

"Not really a shower," Willow muttered as she finished with the socks and started on the shirts.

"More like a bidet," Spike declared with a smirk, "A bidet of evil."

Buffy laughed at the image that conjured.

Looking at the couple, Willow hesitated and cleared her throat, "Buff, if he's really interested in you..."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy leaned her head against Spike's shoulder, "I'll have to let him down easy."

Spike didn't know what masochistic streak compelled him to ask her, "If you weren't already with me, would you be interested back?"

Buffy looked at him, mulling over whether or not to answer. Finally, she shrugged and said, "I don't know. He's good looking, and he's—he's solid, he's smart, he's normal. So not with the wicked energy, which is nice."

"Thought you liked my wicked energy," Spike half-teased, tightening his arms around her.

"I do!" she assured him, "I just don't wanna _only_ be attracted to wicked energy." She frowned. "Or what if he _is_ wicked? In which case, is that why I think he's kinda attractive?"

Willow's brow furrowed. "I'm gonna wait for that sentence to come around again before I jump on."

Xander burst through the front door, excitement pouring from him. "Guys, guess what happened!"

"Buffy got a date," Willow eagerly replied.

"No, _I_ did!" Xander froze, then visibly wilted, "Fine, way to steal my thunder."

"Sorry," Buffy pouted sympathetically.

"What're you doing going on a date anyway? You tired of Captain Peroxide already?"

"Oi," the vampire growled, "Sittin' right here, whelp."

"It's not a real date," Buffy responded, "Principal Wood asked me out, and I think he's aligned with the First."

"Also, like, ten years older than you, right?" Xander added.

"Which is like, a _hundred_ years younger than your type, Buff," Willow quipped.

Buffy laughed, "Yay! Someone who doesn't remember the Industrial Revolution."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Great, you can bring that up on your bloody date."

"Fake date," Buffy corrected.

"Right," he said in a wry tone, "I can see it now: fake date in a fake French restaurant. You leaning over the table with fake interest so you can fake kiss him."

"Spike, cut it out." In spite of her response, Buffy didn't look or sound exasperated, much to her friends' surprise. They didn't realize that Buffy was picking up on the fact that Spike wasn't being petulant; he really was only teasing. And this relieved her, because it meant he was over his momentary bout of jealousy.

"'Oh, Principal Wood,' she'll gasp, 'I love your lack of wicked energy.'" Spike ducked as Buffy swung a throw pillow at him. Both of them were laughing at this point.

Xander shook his head in dismay. Those two were definitely insane.

"How 'bout yours, Xander," Willow asked, "Is she evil?"

"Well, she's interested in me, so there's a good chance. But I'm hoping for the best," Xander grinned optimistically, "We're going for coffee. She has a kayak—"

The front door opened yet again, admitting a harried Giles and the newest Potential, a Chinese girl by the name of Chao-Ahn. The poor girl had barely escaped a Bringer attack in Shanghai and had to leave so suddenly that she didn't have time to pack a bag. She arrived in Sunnydale the day before with nothing but the clothes on her back, so Giles took her out on a shopping trip.

"Dear lord, I hate that mall!" the Watcher groused as he carried in an armload of retail shopping bags, "The shop assistants are rude, and everyone in the food court is sticky."

"Looks like you found her some stuff," Spike remarked.

"That's gotta be rough," Xander sympathized, "Getting just, like, pulled out of your home, being told you're a Potential Slayer, and not being able to bring anything."

"A-And the language barrier is-is formidable," Giles added, "I-I was concerned that my Mandarin is a little thin. But as it turns out, she speaks Cantonese...which is thinner. But we muddle through." He smiled. "And as I suspected, ice cream is a universal language."

Chao-Ahn nodded politely and spoke to the others. Unfortunately, none of them could understand a word of what she was saying, which was in fact, _"Like many from Asia, I am lactose intolerant. I'm very uncomfortable."_

Everyone smiled and nodded uncomfortably—except for Spike, who didn't give a damn.

"What's she saying?" Buffy asked through her broad grin.

"She's grateful to be in the land of plenty," Giles blatantly fibbed. He picked up the shopping bags and addressed Chao-Ahn in that loud, slow way people tended to do when they seemed to think lack of understanding English equaled deafness, "Let's, uh, go and...put away...your new clothes!" He pointed with exaggerated movements towards the stairs. Chao-Ahn beamed and followed him up to the second floor where most of the Potentials were bunked.

Buffy turned to the redhead, all business now, "Hey, Wil, you think you can do a computer check on Principal Wood, see if you can find anything out?"

"Yeah, sure. Want me to check your girl out while I'm at it, Xan?"

Xander shook his head at her offer. "Nope. I'm goin' in blind. I'm gonna be an optimist about this. Why go lookin' for trouble? If it's gonna find ya, it's gonna find ya."

"Seems to find _you_ often enough," Spike mumbled. If anybody heard this remark, they chose not to acknowledge it.

* * *

Buffy discovered that dressing for a fake date was as tricky as dressing for a real one. While she wanted to look nice, she didn't want to look _too_ nice and give Principal Wood the wrong idea. She finally settled on jeans and a nice top. Unfortunately, the white top she chose had a suspicious red stain on it. Damn. She really needed to start wearing darker clothes when on patrol.

She took the top to Anya, hoping the fashionable ex-demon would know how to clean it. The two of them went to the bathroom and Anya started scrubbing at the stain with cold water.

"I don't think it's really a date," she said at one point, "That's what I think."

"Well, it isn't. For me, anyway," Buffy replied, "That's why I chose a top that says 'I'm comfortable in a stodgy office, or a swingin' casual setting...or killing you, y'know, if you're a demon.'"

Anya frowned at the top. "It also says 'I sometimes get blood on my shoulder.' Or...it might be pizza. I don't think I can fix it."

"Thanks for trying." Buffy took the item of clothing back.

Anya leaned against the bathroom sink, thumbs hooked in her hip pockets. "I wasn't talking about your date, anyway. I was talking about that sham date of Xander's. I think it's part of a plan to make me jealous."

"Well, it's not working," Buffy tried to humor her.

"Are you nuts? Of course it's working," the ex-demon sputtered, "O-Observe my-my bitter ranting. Hear the shrill edge of hysteria in my voice!"

Wide-eyed, Buffy carefully edged towards the door. "Uh-huh. Um...I should really go find something else to wear."

Anya huffed, "Fine, go. Leave me here to stew in my impotent rage." When Buffy hesitated, Anya shuffled her feet and told her, "I'm also gonna pee, so you should probably go."

_Just when I think I finally got a handle on her_, Buffy mused with a rueful shake of her head. As she hurried away from the bathroom, she nearly bumped into Spike in the hall. The blonde vampire eyed the lacy cami she was wearing.

"You look nice." He didn't mean to make it sound like an accusation. Really.

"Um, traditionally, one wears something over this." Buffy stifled a sigh. Apparently, Spike wasn't quite over his jealousy after all. "You know nothing's gonna happen, right?"

Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow. "You mean he _won't_ try to kill you?"

"That's not what I—"

"Buffy," Spike closed the distance between them, cupped the side of her face with his hand, "I'm alright. This... It's got nothing to do with you. I know I can trust you. These are my issues, and I'll work through them."

Buffy placed her hand over his and gently guided it down to her neck. As his fingers brushed her Claim mark, she murmured to him, "Just focus on this. I'm yours. Always."

Spike nodded, then leaned in to kiss her. "I'll be listening," he told her, "If there's trouble—"

"You'll come a-runnin'," Buffy smiled, "I know." She reluctantly pulled away. "I gotta go find another top to wear before Wood picks me up."

Spike nodded and watched her walk away.

Buffy was more than a little mistrustful when Principal Wood parked his SUV on the side of the road and informed her that they had to walk the rest of the way. Her doubts grew as he led them down a darkened alleyway. It certainly lent credence to the whole 'walking into a trap' theory. "This isn't right."

Wood chuckled, "I know it doesn't look promising, but I swear this place is great. It's the best-kept secret in town. It's just right down this way."

"Well, it is one of the nicer dark alleys," she remarked, speaking from ample experience.

"I promise you, it's just a little bit further," the principal assured her.

She didn't even try to hide the doubt in her voice when she answered, "Okay."

A moment later, Buffy's Slayer sense tingled and five vampires emerged from the darkness. Three of them came at her; she lost track of the other two, but figured they were hanging back with their boss. Buffy's rage fueled her actions and she staked the three vamps in quick succession. She glared up from where she crouched and shouted, "You set me up, you son of a— What?"

Wood was fighting the last two vampires. Judging from his moves—and the stake that had appeared in his hand—he was no amateur. He dusted one vamp, then the other, then holstered his stake and approached the stunned Slayer. He offered his hand. Dazed, Buffy accepted it and let him help her to her feet.

"I guess we should talk," he regarded her soberly, "The restaurant's right there."

Sure enough, Buffy looked where he pointed and saw the small, out-of-the-way restaurant waiting for them. They walked in and were escorted to their reserved table. Wood pulled her chair out for her, then seated himself on the opposite side of the table. As they picked up their menus, Buffy blurted out in one long breath, "This place is nice. How the hell did you do that?"

"I've had a little practice," Wood stated modestly, "Never took on two at once before, but I have taken out a vamp here or there and some demons."

A freelance demon hunter? Buffy certainly hadn't expected that. "And...you know who I am?"

The principal smiled. "You're the Slayer."

"Right. Okay," Buffy laughed, flustered, "Um...So, I'm guessing that you don't work in an office fifteen feet above the Hellmouth because you enjoy educational administration?"

"Well, I actually do enjoy the work, but...yeah. Yeah, you're right. I maneuvered myself into that school, that office, just like I maneuvered you there. The Hellmouth draws the bad things in close. And now we're headed for something big, Buffy, really big, and I need to be here when it happens. I wanna help."

All this time she'd expected him to be yet another baddie; it never occurred to her that he could be a good guy. That just didn't happen, in her experience.

"Why didn't you tell me about you?"

Wood shrugged, "I wasn't sure about things, yet."

Buffy frowned, "You didn't think you could trust me?"

"Oh, no, no!" he hastened to assure her, "I wasn't sure _I_ was ready, yet. Ready to jump into this fight. But now the fight is starting, or is starting to start. And I don't have time to worry anymore. I have to do something."

"So, you knew who I was before you even came here. How? How do you know about Slayers?" She'd never met a human, other than Watchers or magical practitioners, who'd ever even heard of the Slayer. Even those who knew about vamps and demons didn't know about her.

Wood shifted in his chair. "Right. Okay," he took a breath, "See, when I was a little boy, my mother was one. _The_ one, actually. _The_ Slayer."

"Your mother..." Buffy gawped, feeling as if the record player in her mind had skipped a groove, "Wow, I—I didn't know that _any_ Slayers had children."

"Well, I don't know of any others," Wood admitted, "She was killed when I was four. I still remember her, but it's a little...fuzzy."

Buffy's heart clenched in sympathy. It seemed that having a child did nothing to prolong that Slayer's short lifespan. "Um, something got her? A demon?"

"A vampire," Wood stated bluntly, the long-held rage coloring his voice. "Oh, man, I went through this whole avenging son phase in my twenties, but I never found him. So now I just dust as many of 'em as I can find. I figure eventually I'll get him. That's probably why we got jumped outside. I'm not very popular with the bumpy-forehead crowd," he smiled, "and I bet you aren't either."

"No. Not most of 'em," she chuckled, thinking of a couple of notable exceptions. "Um, so...do you have any Slayer powers? I'm sorry, I-I'm just so floored. I-I have no idea what to ask."

Wood chuckled kindly at her disconcerted stammering. "No, I don't have powers. No, uh, super-strength or mythic responsibilities. I'm just a guy with a few skills because her Watcher took me in and raised me."

"So...you decided to tell me in a darkened little romantic French restaurant?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow.

"Um...yeah," he nodded, somewhat surprised, "Yeah, I'm not really sure how that happened, but...yeah."

Buffy chewed her lip, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I think I should tell you...the reason I said yes when you asked me out is because I, uh, was kinda thinking you might be—"

"A bad guy?" Wood smiled.

"Yeah. A-And I wanted to see if I could get some answers from you."

The principal nodded in understanding. "I figured as much when I saw you snooping around in my office. Guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought."

"That and I'm really paranoid," Buffy admitted, "But the thing is...I'm already with someone."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Wood's dark eyes, but he took it well. "Alright, then. We'll just consider this a dinner between friends."

Buffy flashed a broad smile. "Friends is good."

* * *

While Buffy was out on her fake date, Spike went on patrol. He kept half his attention on Buffy's emotions, and from what he was picking up, she was gonna have one hell of a story to relate to him when she got back. First there was rage, which had concerned Spike at first, but then it gave way to shock. Then there was confusion, amazement, intrigue, utter gobsmacked astonishment, and just a hint of...delight? What the bloody hell was that about?

Interesting things had gone on at the house as well. When Spike returned from patrol, he found everyone gathered in the living room and soon learned that the First had returned. It had approached Andrew, but instead of giving in to the being's wishes, Andrew told the Scoobies and they came up with a plan that Spike thought was both ridiculously clever and sad.

"You tried to record the ultimate evil," Spike repeated in dismay, "Why? In a complex effort to royally piss it off?"

"Guess w-we succeeded pretty good, huh?" Tara muttered. They all looked somewhat embarrassed at the way their plan had backfired. They'd had Andrew pretend to play along with the First while wearing a wire. But "Andrew" and "subtle" were not close friends, or even distant acquaintances, and so the First had caught on to the scheme pretty quickly.

"I never should have gone in wired," Andrew whined, "Redemption is hard! _Ow!_" He squirmed as Dawn peeled the tape off his chest to remove the wire.

"Getting back to Spike's question," Giles interjected from his seat in front of the fireplace, "why did you try to record it?" Giles hadn't been there, otherwise there might have been a voice of sanity at the time.

"To study it," Willow answered, defensive, "To see if we could figure something out from what it was saying. Because, guys, we have to face it. We know nothing about the First."

Anya spoke up, "Well, we know not to record it. That's something."

His chest now tape-free, Andrew pulled his shirt down and went to sit on a nearby chair. "I'm frightened," he lamented, "And my chest hurts where the tape was."

Dawn patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Andrew. You did good. You stood up to it. That's really amazing."

Andrew smiled up at her. "Thank you. You're a peach."

Dawn actually blushed at the compliment.

"What did it want you to do, anyway?" Anya asked.

"Shoot all the girls," Andrew casually replied, "He told me where I could find a gun."

Dawn's eyes widened in alarm. "Shoot girls?"

"Not you, just the Potentials."

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

"This proves my point," an increasingly agitated Giles declared, "This time is crucial. We should be circling the wagons instead of doing things like going out on dates when-when gunplay is imminent. Willow, call Buffy. Get her back here. We need to dispose of the gun and figure out our next move."

"I'll go get her," Spike volunteered.

"No, it's okay. I'll call." Willow picked up her own cell and was about to dial when the phone chirped.

"Bet that's her," Tara said, "Sometimes you're th-thinking about calling someone—"

"No, i-it's a text message," Willow squinted at the tiny screen, "Oh, it's from Xander! It's one of our signals. It's a system we set up a while back, like codes. This one's either, 'I just got lucky. Don't call me for a while.'"

Anya rolled her eyes.

"Or, 'My date's a demon who's trying to kill me.'"

"You don't remember which?" Tara asked.

The redhead shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Dawn smirked, "Well, if we play the percentages..."

"Something's eating Xander's head," Giles concluded.

Anya brightened at this. "Say, that's gratifying."

"Buffy will know what to do," Andrew stated.

"I'll go get her." Spike started for the door, only to be halted once again by Willow.

"That's okay. We don't even know where she went."

The vampire gritted his teeth in impatience.

Willow dialed the number. A ringing sound from one of the end tables drew everyone's attention to Buffy's forgotten cellphone. "That's not good."

"I'll go get Buffy," Spike repeated yet again, and this time he wouldn't take no for an answer. "I can track her through the Claim. She'll be worried about the boy." Besides, it'd give him a chance to crash her fake date, see this principal bloke for himself. Spike grabbed a cellphone and put on a denim jacket, choosing to leave his duster in the upstairs closet, and walked out the front door.

* * *

"Oh, my god!" Buffy moaned as she swallowed a mouthful of dessert, "Oh, my god! That might be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Wood grinned, "Isn't it good? They soak the pears in brandy. Here, you need a bite with the sauce." He offered her a forkful. Buffy laughingly bent down to take the offered bit of fruit into her mouth. As she savored the delicious taste, a mental nudge caused her to turn her head and straighten in surprise at the unexpected appearance of a certain platinum blonde.

Spike gazed at the intimately eating couple with an uncharacteristic blank expression. He was standing so close, Buffy was surprised she hadn't noticed him sooner. Had she really been that distracted?

"What're you doing here?" she mumbled around her full mouth.

A puzzled frown creased Wood's brow. "Is there a problem?"

Spike answered Buffy's question, "It's Xander."

"Xan—" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Lemme guess, his date isn't going so well?"

Spike nodded.

Buffy turned an apologetic look towards the principal. "We gotta go. There's this friend of mine—he's, uh, apparently getting his head eaten by a demon."

Wood blinked, then asked in all seriousness, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Buffy's first impulse was to say no, but then she reconsidered. "Yeah, that might be good."

"Okay. I'll take care of the check."

"We'll meet you at the car." Buffy stood, put on her coat, and took Spike's arm, leading him to the restaurant's exit. She knew she had some explaining to do.

"He knows about demons?" Spike asked as they hurried down the alley.

"Yeah. Turns out he's not evil," Buffy grinned, "He's a demon hunter." She told him about their run-in with the vampires.

"Bloody brilliant," Spike growled.

Sensing his poorly-suppressed anger, Buffy asked, "Why the big frowny face?"

"Nothin'," the vampire bit out, "Just think it's funny how the description 'older and bald' brings up a whole other set of images."

Buffy winced. "Um..."

"I mean, I don't even pay attention to other men, and even _I_ can tell he's—he's..." he cut himself off with a snarl, "What is it with you and all these soddin' tall blokes with perfect bloody skin—"

Buffy couldn't help it, she started giggling.

Spike tried to scowl at her, but her mirth was just too damned cute for him to hold onto his anger. Turning his head away so she wouldn't see the smile tugging at his lips, he grumbled, "Oh, piss off."

This, of course, only made her laugh harder. But by the time Wood caught up to them, Buffy managed to regain her composure. She sat in the front passenger seat while Spike climbed into the back.

"You sure he's in the high school?" Buffy asked a few minutes later.

"Willow did a locator spell," Spike replied, holding up his cellphone for emphasis, "Useful stuff."

Wood nodded, "I'm not surprised. That school's at the center of everything."

"How much longer 'til we get there?" Buffy asked.

"Ten minutes."

A strained silence fell among them. Wood kept glancing at Spike in the rearview mirror, obviously trying to figure out if this was the "someone" Buffy said she was seeing. His curiosity finally got the better of him. "So, how do you two know each oth—"

"He works with me," Buffy answered far too quickly, "Uh, you know, i-in the struggle against evil."

Wood made a neutral sound in his throat. "Cool."

Again, that awkward silence. Buffy tried not to fidget in her seat. She hadn't meant to be so evasive with her answer, but something in her gut told her the principal-slash-demon hunter wouldn't be too thrilled to find out she was romantically involved with a vampire. She hoped that once he got to know Spike better, he might be more open-minded to the idea. She'd hate to lose a potential ally over a personal prejudice.

It was almost a relief when the school finally loomed into view. Wood parked the car, they all jumped out, and the principal used his key to get them into the building. Buffy led the way, the route to the Seal of Danzalthar being rather familiar to her at that point. She ran into the underground chamber in time to see Xander hanging face-down from the sacrificial wheel, blood from a stab wound to his belly oozing onto the seal below. There was also a beautiful looking woman wearing the kind of skimpy, sexy outfit one would expect from an evil priestess in one of those cheesy B-horror movies and holding a long knife (or possibly short sword) in her hand. As she spun to face the Slayer, Buffy saw the woman's eyes glowed yellow with slitted pupils.

Buffy knocked the blade from the woman's grasp and kicked her exposed midriff. That was when Spike arrived and got into the fight. The woman pinned him to the wall and punched his jaw, kicked Buffy away when she tried to help, then wrestled the vampire to the packed earth floor. Her hands went around his throat to crush the life out of him. She obviously wasn't aware that he didn't need to breathe. Spike snarled and shifted into his gameface.

"He's a vampire," the newly arrived Principal Wood stared. Xander's cries for help drew his attention away from the fight. Wood hurried over to the suspended man and used his pocket knife to cut away the restraining ropes. As he worked to free Xander, the Seal of Danzalthar started to open. A Turok-Han's hand reached through the gap and made a grab for the principal's ankle, but Wood managed to kick loose and caught Xander as he fell from the wheel, carrying him to safety. With its sacrificial blood cut off, the seal slammed shut, severing the unlucky übervamp's hand in the process.

While Xander was being rescued, Buffy and Spike continued fighting the demon woman. Buffy had snatched up the long blade and slashed at the woman, but the demon managed to grab her wrists and the two of them wrestled over the weapon for a few seconds before Buffy was flung aside. Spike laid a punch across the woman's jaw, knocking her to her knees. The demon woman hissed in anger and drove her elbow into the vampire's midsection. As he staggered back, she rose to her feet and started raining blows and kicks on him. Spike's face slammed into the wall, splitting his lower lip, then a flying kick from the demon woman sent him sprawling. Before the woman could finish him off, Buffy leapt in and swung the blade in a powerful arc, severing the woman's head from her shoulders. The headless body transformed into something with rough gray skin and patches of spiny hair, the rolling head into a bald creature with mottled black patterns on its crown and a wide, fangy maw with sharp quills at either side.

Buffy hurried to Spike's side as he started to sit up, his features human again. "You okay?" she asked, gently touching his bloodied lip.

Spike nodded and gripped her hand in reassurance. Neither one of them noticed Wood's hard glare as he took in the intimate exchange.

Buffy helped Spike to his feet, then the two of them walked over to where Xander slumped against the wall.

"I think your friend's gonna be okay," Wood informed them.

"Hey, Xand," Buffy waved, acting for all the world like this was just a casual meeting at a party or something, "I'm here."

Xander grinned up at her. "So, how's _your_ date going?"

* * *

They took Xander's car home, having parted ways with Principal Wood at the school. Buffy had taken a moment to have a few words with him while Spike helped Xander to the car.

"Can't say this wasn't an interesting date," Wood remarked with a casual smile.

Buffy grinned, shrugged, "Sooner or later, all my free evenings wind up like this. You get used to it." She hesitated, "Um, y-you still wanna be a part of this, right?"

"Of course," Wood answered without hesitation, "What makes you think I'd change my mind?"

"Well, I figured you might've had second thoughts after seeing Spike..."

The principal nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "A Slayer teamed up with a vampire. Definitely wasn't expecting that."

"He's not like other vampires," she told him, "He has a soul, for one thing."

Wood's eyebrows raised in surprise. "A soul? How'd that happen?"

"Long story." She bit her lip anxiously, "Look, Spike's one of the good guys. I trust him with my life. God knows, we need all the help we can get, but if you don't think you can work with a vampire—"

"You don't need to worry," Wood assured her, "I can put aside my personal feelings for the greater good."

Buffy really hoped so.

When they got home, all the Scoobies were waiting up for them. They were obviously relieved to see Xander walk in under his own power.

"Wh-What happened?" Tara asked.

"What do you think happened?" Xander groused, "Another demon woman was attracted to me."

Anya glared.

"I'm going gay," Xander suddenly announced, "I've decided I'm turning gay. Willow, gay me up. C'mon, let's gay!"

"What?" his baffled friend gaped at him.

"You heard me. Just tell me what to do. I'm mentally undressing Scott Bakula right now. That's a start, isn't it?"

Andrew let out a dreamy sigh, "Captain Archer."

"Come on, let's get this gay show on the gay road," Xander cajoled, "Help me out here."

Fighting back laughter, Buffy asked, "What if you just start attracting male demons?"

"Clem always liked you," Dawn happily joined in.

Anya muttered to her ex, "Serve you right."

"Children, enough," Giles groaned.

Spike grinned at the carpenter. "You'll need some stylish new clothes, mate."

The resulting laughter was cut short by Giles's frustrated, "Oh, enough! Have you learned nothing from tonight's assorted chaos? There isn't time for fun and games and quips about orientation." He glared at them all like a disapproving father. "This isn't a joke. Girls are gonna die. _We_ may die. It's time to get serious."

Everyone's gazes lowered, the mood effectively dampened by the Watcher's chastisement. He wasn't wrong; they needed to start taking the threat more seriously.

After everyone else left for bed, Buffy sat curled up on the living room sofa, her bare feet tucked under her. She was too wired to sleep, and too full of troublesome thoughts dredged up by Giles's speech and other things she'd learned from her friends. She didn't look up when she sensed Spike's approach. The vampire sat down beside her, rested his arms on his knees.

"Anybody tell you about what happened around here tonight?"

She nodded, "Willow did. The First is back in the mix."

"Looks like you found out about the principal none too soon," he remarked, voice subdued, "Can always use another demon hunter."

"Spike...I'm not attracted to him. I-I mean, I do think he's attractive," she tried to explain, "but I'm not interested—"

"I know," the vampire smiled, reaching over to place a hand on her leg, "Would've felt it if you were. Relax, luv. I don't feel threatened."

Relieved, Buffy scooted over and snuggled up to him. Spike's arm went around her shoulder, fingers toying with the ends of her hair. "So, how gobsmacked was he when you told him you were the Slayer?"

"He already knew," Buffy smiled at his puzzled surprise, "Get this, his _mom_ was a Slayer. She died when he was four and her Watcher took him in. Can you believe it? I didn't even know Slayers could have kids!"

She frowned as Spike tensed. The emotions she picked up from him were a swirl of shock, suspicion, and...dread?

"Did he say what her name was?" Spike asked, the strain clear in his voice.

Buffy shook her head. She was starting to get worried.

Spike rubbed his hand across his eyes and suppressed a groan. He ran the sparse facts through his mind: _last name Wood, mother a Slayer, in his early thirties now..._ He really wished it was all a coincidence, but when the bloody hell was he ever that lucky?

"Nikki Wood."

Buffy sat up and stared at him. "What?"

Spike stared down at his lap. "His mum. Nikki Wood."

Buffy ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. "H-How do you know that?"

Spike forced himself to meet her gaze. "'Cause I'm the one who killed her."

Her mouth fell open, eyes widened in horror. "Y— Th-That can't be right."

"It is," the vampire reluctantly explained, "Nikki Wood's the Slayer I killed in New York, in '77. Stalked her for weeks, I did. And yeah, I remember seein' a little boy with her."

"Oh, god..." Buffy's face dropped into her hands. Her head shook from side to side.

Spike waited in agony for whatever her reaction would be. Finally, Buffy sat up and took a deep breath to steady herself. "He already hates vampires," she stated, "I saw the way he looked at you. If he finds out you—" She sighed, pursed her lips. "We can't tell him."

"Buffy," he swallowed, "I'm sorry."

Buffy looked at him and placed a gentle hand to his cheek. "Doesn't matter. You're not the same man you were then."

Spike exhaled as some of the anxious tension left him. He'd worried that she might hold it against him. Sure, she knew he killed two other Slayers before, but now she knew someone directly affected by his past actions. Spike knew how that made it all more real, not just stories.

"And if he does find out?" he felt compelled to ask.

Buffy rested her head on his shoulder. "Then we'll deal. But there's no way in hell I'll ever choose him over you."

The vampire smiled and kissed the top of her head.


	16. Chapter 16: Get It Done

**A/N:** Whew! I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written. There was a lot more plot to cover in this episode than I expected. But I think it was worth the effort. Enjoy!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_You'll know when this is done_

_If you comprehend_

_The calculated hate in subtlety_

_So know that I'm the one_

_Come to bring the end_

_Poisoning your safety_

_Deep down inside you_

_Too far to undo_

_When all your confidence dies_

_You feel it burning_

_Twisting and turning_

_I hope it eats you alive_

-Blue Stahli, "Doubt"

Buffy enjoyed the quiet late at night, all the Potentials sound asleep, their constant chatter and stomping feet absent for a few peaceful hours. The house was more crowded than ever now. Many were forced to bed down on the living room floor. Buffy walked in to check on them, picked up a book somebody left on the floor and put it on a nearby table. Seeing that everyone was sound asleep, she went upstairs to check on those who were packed into the bedrooms. In the first room she came to, Tara and Willow were curled up in bed together, half a dozen Potentials scattered around the floorspace. In the next, Dawn shared her bed with one of the girls, with still more curled up on her bedroom floor. Everyone seemed fine...until Buffy heard quiet sobbing. She turned, saw a girl sitting alone in the hall, knees tightly drawn to her chest and quietly weeping.

"Chloe?" Buffy took a tentative step closer to the girl. "I-It is Chloe, right?"

The girl lifted her head and stared at her with hopeless, teary eyes.

Something slammed into Buffy's side, sent her caroming down the stairs. Whatever it was scrambled after her as she tumbled down to the first floor landing. As Buffy's back hit the floor, her attacker leapt onto her, arms to either side of her head, caging her in. Buffy gaped up at the painted, feral snarl of the Primitive, the very first of the Slayers.

_"It's not enough."_

Buffy woke with a gasp, sat up in bed. All around her, taking up every inch of space in her room, the Potentials slumbered undisturbed. Beside her, Spike rolled onto his side and slipped an arm around her waist, sensing her anxiety even in his sleep. Buffy took a deep, calming breath and forced herself to lie back down. She let the sleeping vampire pull her close, waited for her racing heartbeat to slow. But even when she found herself drifting off again, the Primitive's words stayed with her. _It's not enough..._

* * *

Spike knew something was bothering Buffy. She seemed restless, like she was waiting for some new disaster to strike. She wouldn't talk about it, though, much to the vampire's frustration. As if he didn't have enough aggravation, what with the invasion of the teen amazons. Lately he'd taken to hiding out in the basement during the daytime just to get a few minutes of peace. It was either that or start biting the ones that irritated him the most, and _that_ wouldn't go over well, that's for bloody sure. Nights were better. He could leave the house, spend some much-needed time in the company of the non-female persuasion. Most nights, anyway.

"I'm a bright girl," Anya griped, "Good education. Quick on the uptake. So tell me, why in the name of almighty Grothnar would I let myself become human again?"

"You're really talkin' to the wrong fella," Spike replied, wondering yet again what possessed him to invite her along for a night of drinking.

"I mean, sure, the vengeance demon gig has some downsides."

Spike shrugged philosophically. "All jobs do."

"I mean, being human—_ugh!_" she grimaced at a passerby, "You're always icky on the inside, disgusting on the outside."

"Your outside's not so bad," Spike said, hoping a little harmless flirting might tone down the whinging.

Anya lowered her eyes bashfully. Bloody hell, this bird really was starved for attention.

"You know, the only thing worse than being human is being trapped inside a house full of humans," she said.

Spike chuckled, "Preachin' to the choir, pet."

"I mean, It's like we live in Slayer Central," Anya declared, "I swear, i-if Buffy rooms or boards one more of the Potential girls, I'm gonna call a—I'm gonna call a health inspector."

"I like my plan better," Spike countered, "Get up, get out, get drunk. Repeat as needed. It's just more elegant."

He almost jumped when Anya linked her arm with his. "Thanks for havin' me along."

"Don't mention it," he replied neutrally.

"At first I thought, it's weird. Is Spike asking me out on a date? 'Cause that would just be..." noticing the look he was giving her, Anya withdrew her arm and gave an awkward laugh, "...nuts. What with you shackin' up with Buffy and all."

"Right. I'm just out for the alcohol," he stated firmly.

"Right there with you, scooter," Anya replied with false cheeriness, "Tonight, I plan to drink you under the table."

"You're on, then."

"Good." They strolled on for another half block, then the former vengeance demon abruptly stopped and asked, "Is it because you think I'm fat?"

"What?" Spike sputtered, thrown off by the apparent non sequitur.

"Or the hair. Is it the hair?" she tugged at one of her dyed blonde locks, "Is that why nobody finds me attractive?"

"R-Ridiculous. The do's quite fetching," the vampire stammered, baffled by the turn the conversation had taken.

"Then why the hell does every male in this lousy town treat me like a leper?" Anya cried, head thrown back and arms flung out.

Spike glanced over her shoulder and heaved a sigh, "Oh, thank god."

"What?"

"Demon."

Anya squeaked as a large, scaly monster grabbed her from behind and threw her down to the pavement. "D'Hoffryn says you die!" it roared.

"Of course he does." Spike's fist smashed into the demon's jaw. Another punch sent it sprawling. Spike hesitated over the dazed would-be assassin, then grabbed Anya and half-dragged her along as they ran back to the safety of the house on Revello Drive.

* * *

The Hellmouth was stirring, and its affects could be felt all through the high school. Incidents of aggression—fights and vandalism—were on the rise. And it was only gonna get worse.

"Was it like this before?" Principal Wood asked, "I mean, it just seems to me as if things are getting bad faster than we thought."

"We're a little ahead of schedule," Buffy agreed. Truth was, she felt as if they were sitting on a volcano that was about to blow.

"I can't say I'm too surprised," the principal sighed, "I knew I signed on for somethin'. But, Buffy, I'm just a guy. Granted, a cool and sexy vampire-fightin' guy, but still..."

Buffy grinned, "Don't forget snappy dresser."

Wood modestly bowed his head. "Thank you. But this is gonna get bigger than me." He reached for something by his feet, set it on Buffy's desk. "That's why I've decided to give you this."

It looked like a duffel bag. An old one, made of leather. Buffy eyed it curiously. "What is it?"

"An emergency kit," Wood explained, "This bag belonged to my mother."

Buffy's interest grew. "A Slayer keepsake? I-I couldn't."

"No, you have to," he insisted, "Technically, it should've been passed down directly to you through the years, but after my mother died, I guess I just couldn't part with it." He laid a possessive hand on it, his expression somber. "I don't know what's inside, exactly, but I know it has something to do with her power. Well, your power, now."

Buffy was moved by the gesture. "I-I don't know what to say."

Wood smiled, "Try saying, 'Thank you, Principal Wood.'"

"Thank you, Principal Wood," Buffy repeated cheekily.

The principal waved it off. "Ah, call me Robin. And now I'd like to see where you work."

Buffy blinked, "Uh, here, actually. Uh, th-this is my desk, and, uh," she picked up her pencil cup, "these are my pencils."

Robin smiled, amused. "No. Where you do your other work."

Right, well, she'd already decided to trust him. She supposed now was as good a time as any to show him the operation, such as it was. She filled Robin in on the events of the past few months as they rode in his car to her house. She finished as they entered through the front door, "So, all the Potential Slayers—who seem to keep popping up from, like, every corner of the earth—were getting killed by agents of the First. We thought the Council could protect them, but unfortunately, no one was protecting the Council, and all their Watchers were killed. Word got out, and they've all been comin' here since."

"There's nothin' like the end of the world to bring people together," Robin mused.

Buffy's mouth twisted in a wry smirk. "Heartwarming. Anyway, this is, uh, command central," she indicated the living room with a sweep of her arm. Rolled-up sleeping bags, clothes, and some personal items cluttered the tables and out-of-the-way corners of the room. Thank god for Goodwill. That and the money Spike had saved up last year when Buffy's finances got really shaky. She hadn't accepted the money at the time, because it wasn't legally earned, but after the first grocery bill nearly caused Buffy to have a stroke, her moral inhibitions became quite a bit more lax.

Andrew suddenly appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron and oven mitts. He crossed his arms and glared at the Slayer. "Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, sounding like an overwrought housewife, "This funnel cake is kicking my ass."

"Yeah, I hear they're tricky," Wood responded without batting an eye.

Buffy grimaced and reluctantly made introductions, "Robin Wood, this is Andrew. Andrew is our... Actually, he's our hostage."

"I like to think of myself more as a 'guestage,'" Andrew made air quotes with his mitted hands.

Robin quirked an eyebrow. "So you—you hold him here against his will?"

"Well, he was evil, and people got killed," Buffy answered, a bit weakly, "A-And now he bakes. It's a thing."

"Could we try to just keep our secret headquarters a little bit secret?" Andrew admonished, "You keep bringin' people in, they're gonna see everything. They'll see the...big board."

"Andrew," Buffy spoke to him as if he were a child, "we don't have a big board."

Andrew hurried out of the room and returned a second later clutching a large whiteboard covered in illustrations. "I, uh, made it myself," he declared with obvious pride. It was even labeled _Sunnydale "Big Board."_

"Oh, I wouldn't have guessed," Robin drawled while Buffy did a facepalm.

"Uh, this is us," Andrew pointed at a drawing of a castle with the letters HQ beside it, "And this represents the First in various incarnations," drawing of a screaming devil face, "And, uh, there's no pattern to the naked eye, yet. But the instant one emerges, yours truly is on it."

Buffy and Robin didn't say a word, just looked at each other and silently left the room. Andrew called after them, "Where do we put our receipts?"

"You'll have to forgive Andrew," Buffy sighed as she led Robin out onto the back patio, "Or not. Your call. We do have a lot more working for us than just the, uh, big board."

"So I see."

A little over twenty girls were going through their exercise drills in the backyard. They stood in orderly rows while Kennedy, acting very much the drill sergeant, shouted instructions to them. "Punch-block combo! Cross, block, kick! Chamber your energy. Punch-block combo! _Hold it!_" She stormed over to one of the girls who'd messed up in the last maneuver. Buffy noticed that it was Chloe.

"What the hell do you call that, Potential?" Kennedy snapped in the girl's face, "Try that in the field, and you are dead. Drop and give me twenty."

Chloe's brow furrowed. "Twenty what?"

Kennedy scowled. "Pushups, maggot!"

As the Potential did her pushups while the others stood at attention, Kennedy walked over to where Buffy and Robin observed them. As soon as she was close, Kennedy dropped the whole drill sergeant act and gushed in excitement, "I love this job! Did you see that? I called that girl maggot." She seemed to notice Robin for the first time. "Hi. Who the hell are you?"

"An ally," Buffy answered for him.

"So, what d'you think?" Kennedy challenged, "My girls ready to kick some ass, or what?"

"Looking strong," Wood conceded, "But I'm just not sure the First has an ass you can actually, y'know, kick."

"I guess we'll see," a confident Kennedy retorted.

"Principal Wood, hi!" Amanda waved excitedly from her spot in the group, "It's so weird seeing you outside of school."

"What are you waving at, Potential?" Kennedy barked. Amanda hastily returned to formation and the exercises continued.

"You're right," Buffy said in a subdued voice, watching the girls, "It's not enough."

Robin looked at her. "That's not what I said, Buffy. It's an impressive group of recruits."

"They're not recruits. Recruits are...recruited. These girls were chosen."

Sensing her misgivings, Wood tried to reassure her, "You're doin' the best you can with what you've got."

Buffy pursed her lips. "They're not all gonna make it. Some will die, and nothing I can do will stop that."

Willow stepped through the backdoor with an armload of weapons, including a crossbow and stakes. She froze when she saw the principal and frantically came up with a reason for the apparent militaristic training regimen. "Oh, hi. Hey! Well, Buffy, I-I see that your preparation for the school...pep-dance-cheer-drill contest are-are coming along," she grinned nervously, "Bring it on!"

Buffy managed not to laugh. "It's okay. I filled him in on everything."

"Oh, thank god," the redhead heaved a sigh of relief, "If I had to explain all these weapons, I had nothing." She set the items down on the patio table.

Robin said to her, "Buffy tells me you've been, uh—Oh, how shall I put it? Experimenting." At Willow's and Buffy's wary looks, he quickly added, "With the magics."

"Oh, yeah," Willow laughed, "Nothing too heavy, though. Just the lighter, safer stuff." She turned to address Buffy, "I-If Kennedy asks, her pointy stuff's right there. See ya inside." She glanced at Robin, grinned. "_So_ much cooler than Snyder." She vanished back into the house.

"She really one of the most powerful witches in the world?" Wood asked, dismayed, "Remind me not to make her crabby."

"Might be better if ya did," Buffy murmured.

"How's that work?"

"It's just..." she shrugged, uncertain, "The First is coming, and look at us. We've got a bunch of fighters with nothing to hit, a Wicca who won't-a, and the brains of our operation wears oven mitts."

"Well, you're redefining the job, Buffy. And that takes guts."

Buffy smiled, grateful for his positive spin on things.

"This isn't your full arsenal, anyway," Robin's voice took on a faint but noticeable edge, "Show me the vampire."

Buffy was hesitant, but she knew if she wanted Robin on her team, he and Spike would have to learn to at least tolerate each other. She couldn't keep them separated forever. "C'mon. He's hiding out in the basement right now."

Spike wasn't alone, as it turned out. Anya was down there giving him the third degree about something.

"But you just let him go!"

"After saving your life," the exasperated vampire argued.

"For now," Anya huffed, "That was one of D'Hoffryn's killers, Spike. He won't stop coming 'til he kills me."

"Yet here you are, walkin', talkin'...annoyin'." He rolled his eyes.

"But you fought like such a 'wimpire,' what with the lifting and the running," the former demon griped, "Why not just kill him?"

"Anya, _think_. I fight, demon boy gets lucky, I get knocked out, you get killed. True?" At her angry sigh, Spike continued in a reasonable tone, "We both know the safest and sanest way of saving your life is to keep you with me, away from danger."

Anya scoffed and stormed past him, squeezed by Robin and Buffy to stomp up the stairs to the basement's exit.

Spike threw his arms up in frustration. "No need to thank me! I'm just the one who beat him off." He frowned, then said to Buffy, "'Repelled him' would perhaps be the better phrase." He gave an awkward shrug. "Demon."

"Figured," Buffy smirked, though the argument had troubled her. Mostly because Anya had a point; it wasn't like Spike to run away from a fight, no matter how sensible retreat might be. It was yet another instance of the vampire behaving out of character, cautious instead of impulsive. And it bothered her a lot more than she let on.

"I hope we're not intruding," Robin spoke up. He strode farther into the basement and pretended to examine some of the training equipment.

"Not a bit," Spike's cool gaze regarded him, "Just what brings our good principal to this neck of the gloom?"

"I'm showing him our operation. Us," Buffy explained.

"Fine by me," the vampire responded calmly, "Big fight against evil comin' up. The more good guys we've got, the longer we'll all live." While he sounded sincere, Buffy knew him well enough to realize he was putting on a show. She felt his distrust for Robin through the link, but also his resolve to push that distrust aside for her sake.

"Is that what you are?" Robin asked, sounding almost conversational, "A good guy?"

Spike's mouth stretched into a thin smile. "I haven't heard any complaints. Well, I have heard a few complaints over the years, but then I just killed whoever spoke up, and that was pretty much that."

"He's joking," Buffy hastened to assure the principal.

Robin's expression didn't change. "No, he's not."

"No, I'm not," Spike agreed, "But that's the old me I'm talkin' about."

Robin stepped a bit closer to the vampire. "Why don't you tell me about that?"

Spike shrugged, "Not much to tell. I've changed."

"Ah," Robin smiled; it didn't reach his eyes, "Now that you have a soul."

Spike drew back in surprise. "Yeah. That was a big deal. Very...private," he turned to Buffy, "What, are you just tellin' everyone now?"

"Oh, come on, Spike," Robin cajoled, "Don't blame Buffy. I asked."

Spike looked at him. "Right. The educator," he muttered.

Buffy tensed as he closed the distance between himself and Wood. He obviously picked up on Robin's hostility, and Spike never responded well to that. The two men's gazes bore into each other, the tension mounting between them.

"Yeah," Spike drawled, "got myself a soul. Whatever that means. And now I'm unique." He smirked. "Well, more or less."

"And how's that workin' out for ya?" Robin asked.

"In progress," was Spike's terse reply.

"Well, you've had some time," Robin remarked, "You've been in Sunnydale, what?"

"Years."

"How many?"

"A few."

"Before that?

"Around."

Their postures became increasingly aggressive. Buffy realized it was time to step in before things escalated.

"I think we'd better go back upstairs," she suggested to the principal.

Without breaking their staring contest, Spike grinned and responded, "Right. Give him the full tour." He leaned a little closer to Robin and whispered suggestively, "You don't wanna miss a look at her weapons chest."

Buffy closed her eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh, then she and Robin left the basement together, leaving Spike to growl at himself in self-rebuke. "Oh, nicely handled, Spike, you soddin' pillock."

Buffy returned a while later, after Wood left. She glared at the chastened vampire, her arms crossed. "So, was that your idea of acting civil towards the newest member of our _very_ small army?"

"He started it," Spike muttered, then winced at his childishness. "I mean, the bloke obviously has it in for me."

"You're a vampire! He's a demon hunter! Of course there's gonna be friction," she snapped, "I was just hoping you could be the mature one, for once. Don't give him an excuse—"

"He doesn't need a bloody excuse," Spike countered, "He's never gonna trust me, and I bloody well won't trust him."

Buffy sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please, just...try, okay? We're already outmatched as it is."

Spike felt a twinge of guilt, an emotion he still didn't quite have a handle on. He shouldn't be adding to Buffy's already overwhelming stress. He walked over and rested his hands on her hips. "Sorry, luv. I'll try to dial back on the alpha male rubbish."

Buffy mustered a faint smile and placed her hands against his chest. "I'll let Robin know the same goes for him. Might help if you two keep your distance from each other."

"Works for me." Spike ignored the slight twinge at hearing Buffy refer to the principal by his first name. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Think you're up for patrol tonight?"

Buffy considered it; time away from the house would do her some good. "Long as there aren't any last-minute emergencies."

Spike nodded. That would have to be good enough.

* * *

Spike helped Buffy lay out the sleeping bags in their room later that night. He chafed at the thought of having to share their personal space with so many others, but it wasn't like they had a lot of choice. Dawn was there as well, in full Junior Watcher mode, "So, I took a look inside that emergency bag of Principal Wood's. It smelled weird. Kinda like Grandma's closet, but worse."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know that was possible. Anything we could use?"

"Trinkets, weapons, one very large textbook," Dawn held up said book, flipping through a few tissue-thin pages, "Translation's gonna be a bitch. Did you know the ancient Sumerians did not speak English?"

Spike feigned shock, "They're worse than the French!"

Buffy laughed, then asked her sister if there was anything else.

"Uh, yeah," Dawn replied, "A box. A big, fat, unopenable box. I'm betting whatever the big deal about this emergency bag is, you'll find it in the box."

"Good. Keep on it." Buffy tossed down the last pillow, then she and Spike made their way to the next room, Dawn trailing behind. "Don't you have any real homework?" Buffy asked.

"Well, I've got a system. It's called flunking out. No, just kidding!" the teen giggled, "I'm paying someone to do my work. I'm kidding!"

Spike grinned as Buffy rolled her eyes.

Snickering, Dawn teased, "I love to see your eyeballs change color when you think I'm gonna flunk—" The teen let out a horrified gasp when Buffy opened the next bedroom's door. A girl was hanging from the light fixture, a bedsheet knotted around her throat, an overturned nightstand under her dangling feet. Even Spike froze at the sight. Buffy's throat tightened as she recognized the girl as Chloe. She was even wearing the same pajamas from her dream.

Behind them, the door across the hall opened and half a dozen Potentials rushed out. "What happened?" Kennedy blurted, "We heard—" She cut herself short with a gasp of her own. All the girls stared wide-eyed at Chloe's body.

Buffy's shock gave way to a smoldering rage. "Dawn, get a knife," she all but snarled, "I'm cutting her down."

"Good thinking."

Everyone gaped at Chloe's doppelganger smiling beside her hanging corpse. "But, on the other hand, why rush? Up or down, I'll still be dead."

A muscle in Spike's cheek jumped. "You're not Chloe," he growled.

"Yeah, well, neither is she anymore," the First countered, "Now she's just...Chloe's body."

"What did you do to her?" Kennedy yelled.

Not-Chloe held up its hands in protest. "Nothing! We just talked all night," its smile turned sinister, "Well, _I_ did most of the talking. But Chloe is—I'm sorry, _was—_a good listener. 'Til she hanged herself. Like when you called her maggot. She really heard that."

Kennedy flinched.

"Don't listen to it, any of you," Buffy admonished.

The First scoffed, "Oh, let 'em. The only reason why Chloe offed herself is 'cause she knew what you're not getting. _I'm coming._ You're going. All this, it's almost over."

"We'll be here," Buffy swore.

The apparition quirked an eyebrow. "All of you? But wait, I thought—" its voice suddenly switched to Buffy's, repeating the words she said to Robin earlier that day, "_They're not all gonna make it. Some will die, and there's nothing I can do that will stop it._" It grinned at their reactions. "Hey, _I_ didn't say it. But I'll be seeing all of you. One by one." With a cheerful wave, it chirped, "TTFN!" and vanished in a flash.

Spike frowned. "TTFN?"

"Ta-ta for now," Rona answered, "It's what Tigger says when he leaves."

Amanda said in a tiny voice, "Chloe loved Winnie the Pooh."

Buffy looked at the girls, saw the grief setting in. Several of them were openly weeping. Buffy grimly set her jaw. "Dawn, where's that knife?"

They cut Chloe down and wrapped her in a blanket. Spike carried the body over his shoulder, Buffy got a lantern and shovel from the garden shed, and the two of them made their way to the isolated plot of land where Annabelle had already been buried. Spike laid the body down on the ground. "I'll start digging."

"No." Buffy drove the shovel's blade into the earth, pulled up a thick clump of grass and tangled roots. As she dug, Spike leaned against a nearby tree and smoked a cigarette. Rage and anguish came off Buffy in waves, making the vampire's stomach churn. When the hole was deep enough, Spike tossed the cigarette butt aside and moved to help place the body into the grave.

"I got it," Buffy bit out, dragging the body towards the hole. Spike ignored her and leaned down to lift the other end. Buffy shoved him away. "I said I got it!"

"Hey!" Spike glared, "I'm only helpin', luv."

_"Helping?"_ Buffy sneered, "Are you really that clueless? Look at her!" She pointed at the body lying in its freshly dug grave. "She's _dead_. And it's not because of demons or Bringers. All the First did was talk to her. That's it! We're just—We're just a pathetic joke to it." She brushed a shaking hand across her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt behind. "This isn't a war. It's not even target practice. I was wrong when I said not all of us are gonna make it. _None_ of us are gonna make it, at this rate."

Spike reached out to grip her shoulder. "We can only do the best we can with what we've got, Buffy."

She shrugged his hand off, lifted her gaze to scowl at him. "But we're not, are we?"

Spike blinked.

"That spat you and Anya had in the basement," she reminded him, "Since when do you run away from a fight?"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? I had to get Anya to safety," Spike argued, "It was the smartest move."

"Oh, please!" Buffy scoffed, "You're not holding back 'cause you suddenly got sensible. You ran off because you lost your nerve. Ever since I dragged you out of the First's lair—it might not've broken you, but it sure as hell took away your backbone." She got in his face, her expression bordering on contempt. "Playing it safe, running off and hiding like a scared little boy. If the Spike I knew five years ago saw what he'd turn into, he'd stake himself."

Spike tensed at her harsh words. It wasn't what she said that hurt so much as the truth of it. Somewhere along the line he'd let himself become so much less than he used to be.

Buffy stepped back, her initial anger fading into remorse. She looked away, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'm sor—"

"No," Spike interrupted, something in his voice prompting her to meet his gaze, "You're right. None of us are bringin' our A-game." A muscle in his cheek jumped. "Including you."

"What do you mean?" she frowned, "I've been giving everything I have to this."

"Not where it counts," he argued, "You wanna get everyone to quit holdin' back, you gotta stop coddling them. You gotta get in their faces like you just did with me. And not just with the Potentials. The Scoobies, Giles, Dawn, everyone. They need a leader, Buffy. Not a friend."

Buffy swallowed, nodded. She knew all this; had known for some time. But she kept shying away from what had to be done because...she didn't want to hurt her friends' feelings. She didn't want to make them mad at her. Now she had to push her misgivings aside. She couldn't be an effective leader _and_ be a friend. She just hoped the others understood that, eventually.

Giles might, if he were there. But he was off collecting yet another Potential on the other side of the country. Buffy knew she would miss his support tonight. But maybe it was for the best; she had to learn to stand on her own.

Spike wordlessly picked up the shovel and began filling in the grave. Buffy stood with her arms crossed, watching him and thinking about what she would have to do when the returned to the house. Everyone would be in mourning for Chloe, and letting the doubts the First stirred up percolate in their minds. She couldn't let them have the luxury of grieving. She had to get them angry, get them motivated. She had to start leading.

* * *

Buffy and Spike returned to find everyone gathered in the living room. Most of the girls were still in their pajamas. A lot of them were crying or comforting each other.

Buffy strode to the front of the room beside the fireplace, still clutching the shovel in one hand. Spike remained by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew what was about to go down—Buffy had talked to him about it on the walk back—and he knew his part. He watched and waited for his moment.

" Anyone wanna say a few words about Chloe?" Buffy asked. When no one spoke up, she said, "Let me." Then her expression hardened, and her voice when cold, "Chloe was an idiot. Chloe was stupid. She was weak. Anyone in a rush to be the next dead body I bury, it's easy. Just think of Chloe and do what she did, and I'll find room for you next to her and Annabelle."

She definitely had their attention now. All eyes were on her, faces set in varying degrees of shock. A few were already starting to get angry. Buffy kept pushing, "I'm a Slayer, the one with the power. And the First has me using that power to dig our graves!" She flung down the shovel. "I've been carrying you—all of you—too far, too long. Ride's over."

Kennedy leapt to her feet. "You're out of line!"

"No, she's not," the ever-faithful Willow quietly disagreed.

"You're gonna let her talk to you like that?" the Potential exclaimed, "Willow, she's not even the most powerful one in this room. With you here, she's not close." Kennedy glared at the Slayer in challenge.

"You're new here," Buffy stated bluntly, "and you're wrong. Because I _use_ the power that I have. The rest of you are just waiting for me."

Xander spoke up, "Well, yeah, but only because you kind of told us to. You're our leader, Buffy. As in 'follow the.'"

"Well, from now on, I'm your leader, as in 'do what I say.'"

"_Jawohl!_" Xander exclaimed in typical knee-jerk sarcasm, "But let's not try to forget, we're also your friends."

"I'm not," Anya couldn't resist mentioning.

Buffy turned to glare at the ex-vengeance demon. "Then why are you here? Aside from getting rescued, what is it that you do?"

Anya squirmed at the unexpected confrontation. "I—I provide much needed...sarcasm."

"You're here because you're scared," Buffy stated.

"Same goes for everyone in this room," Xander pointed out.

"Fine," Buffy replied tersely, "Anya, all of you, be as scared as you'd like. Just be useful while you're at it."

"Come on, Buffy," Willow tried to reason, "You know everyone here is doing everything they can."

But they weren't, and that was the problem.

"And the First isn't impressed," Buffy countered, "It already knows us. It knows what we can do, and it's laughing. You wanna surprise the enemy? Surprise yourselves. Force yourself to do what can't be done, or else we are not an army. We're just a bunch of girls waiting to be picked off and buried."

The rising tension in the room was palpable. It made the hairs on the back of Spike's neck stand on end. Already he noticed more than a few resentful glances cast his way. He knew what they were thinking; the Slayer's pet vampire didn't have to worry about getting chewed out like the rest of them. He and Buffy both knew that would happen. Time to prove otherwise.

"Where are you going?" Buffy called out as Spike made to leave.

"Out," he answered simply, "Since I'm neither a girl, nor waiting, all this speechifying doesn't really apply to me, does it?"

"Fine. Take a cellphone. That way, if I need someone to get weepy or whaled on, I can call you."

A ripple of surprise went through the room and Spike slowly turned to face her. "If you've got something to say—"

"I just said it," she snapped, "You keep holding back, you might as well walk out that door."

"Holding back?" his voice rose, incredulous, "You're blind! I've been here, right in it. Fighting, scrappin'."

"Since we rescued you from the First?" Her eyebrows rose in challenge.

Spike gritted his teeth. "Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't been quite relishing the kill the way I used to."

Buffy shook her head in disgust. "You were a better fighter then. I don't want the cowed Spike I'm looking at now. What I want is the Spike that's dangerous, the Spike that tried to kill me when we met."

"Oh, you don't know how close you are to bringing him out," he growled.

"I'm nowhere near him." Buffy marched towards the door. "Dawn, get the Potentials upstairs and break out that emergency kit."

"What're you gonna do?" the teen stammered.

"I'm declaring an emergency." Buffy's eyes met Spike's as she passed him. To everyone who looked, they saw anger and disappointment. In the link, however, their thoughts touched like two hands reaching out to clasp each other; Buffy in gratitude and apology, Spike in steadfast support.

As the Potentials were herded upstairs, Buffy went into the next room, picked up the phone, and dialed Robin Wood's number. Whatever was going to happen, she had a feeling she'd need all the help she could get.

* * *

The Potentials were all safely tucked away upstairs; all but Kennedy, who insisted on staying. Buffy was beginning to have second thoughts about making Kennedy "team captain" over the other girls. That little bit of power seemed to be going to her head, making her way too assertive for someone of her limited experience. But that was a problem for another time. Right now Buffy had more immediate concerns.

"That emergency bag's got some neat stuff in it," Dawn observed as the Scoobies emptied the ancient duffel, "Weapons, charms, advanced reading assignments."

Xander picked up some kind of ornate metal cup. "Yeah, cool stuff. But we've seen it all before."

"Not this we haven't," Anya's fingers brushed the mysterious box, "What's inside it?"

Robin shrugged. "I don't know. It hasn't been opened since—well, since now," he finished lamely as Buffy snapped the padlock off the box with minimal effort. She lifted the lid off the box and her friends began lifting out its contents. There was some kind of lazy susan-type contraption with a built-in oil lamp at its center. There were also several flat cutouts made of metal depicting various scenes and characters.

"These things are shadow-casters," Dawn explained, "You put them in motion, and they tell you a story." She read a passage from the Sumerian text, "It says, 'You can't just watch. You have to see.'"

"What the hell does that mean?" Anya asked.

"It's cryptic," Xander muttered, "I don't like it. Every time instructions get cryptic, someone gets hurt. Usually me."

"'You can't just watch. You have to see'?" Buffy frowned, puzzled, "See what?"

"That's where all my fancy translating skills break down," Dawn grimaced apologetically, "But I think it's an origin myth. The story of the very first Slayer."

At the mention of the Primitive, Buffy's eyes widened. "I-I saw her."

"You saw the first Slayer?" an intrigued Robin asked.

Buffy nodded. "The other night, in my dream. It's gotta mean something, right?"

Spike had remained silent through the entire conversation, standing apart from the group with his arms crossed. Now he spoke in a wry voice, "Looks like we're puttin' on a puppet show."

The set up the rotating stand, filled the lantern with oil, and lit the wick. Then they dimmed the lights. Dawn turned the page of the book and took a deep breath. "Okay. According to this, I think, you put on those puppet guys, one by one. They cast shadows, and the shadows tell the story." She translated the first line, only slightly hesitant, "'First, there is the earth.'"

Xander placed the first shadow caster onto the stand and the image of a hillscape with a sickle moon appeared on the far wall. Almost immediately, everyone's ears picked up the faint sound of drums.

"Wh-What's that sound?" Tara asked.

"Okay. So far, so creepy," Xander murmured, eyes gazing warily around.

Dawn continued translating, "'Then there came the demons.'"

The next puppet was a twisted, vaguely humanoid shape with claws, fangs, and horns. Something roared in the distance, making everyone's skins prickle.

"'After demons, there came men.'"

An image of three small figures, each bearing a staff. Buffy tensed; she'd seen this before—it was one of Michael Poole's drawings. Before she could say anything, Dawn read, "'Men found a girl.'"

Faint screams mingled with the demon roars and the steady drums.

"'The men took the girl to fight the demon—all demons. They...'" Dawn faltered, the words affecting her, "'They chained her to the earth.'"

An image of a long, sinuous chain with a shackle at one end.

"'And then...'" Dawn struggled, "'A-And then...' I...I-I can't read this. Something a-about darkness?"

"What about darkness?" Buffy asked.

The stand bearing the puppets began to rotate on its own, speeding ups. The shadows shifted, changed. They moved as if they were alive.

"It says, 'You cannot be shown. You cannot just watch, but you must see. See for yourself, but only if you're willing to make the exchange.'"

"When'd you get so good at Sumerian?" Xander wondered, watching as the shadow-girl cowered from the snarling demon. The chain slithered towards the girl and locked itself around her neck, holding her in place.

Dawn's wide eyes lifted from the book. "It's not in Sumerian anymore."

The screams and roars grew louder. The rotating stand spun faster. The shadows began to stretch and climb the walls, blotting out the weak light. Then there was a flare of brilliant blue-white light that engulfed the shadow-casters, and everything fell silent. The strange, shimmering light remained. Nobody said it, but they were all thinking the same thing; they had opened a portal to somewhere.

"But what does it mean?" Xander stammered.

Buffy gazed at the portal, a strange sense of calm coming over her. "It means I have to go in there."

"No, it doesn't!" Willow exclaimed, "Where does it say that? It doesn't say that!"

"Buffy, you don't even know what you're exchanging," Robin cautioned, "You don't even know if you're ready, yet."

"That's the point." Buffy glanced towards Spike, felt the vampire's trepidation, but also his support. The time for caution was over; it was time to be daring.

"No. Buffy," Willow pleaded, "we don't know where you're going or how we'll get you back."

"Buffy, you can't," Xander cried.

"How will we get you back?" Tara asked.

"Find a way." Buffy didn't giver herself a chance to second-guess herself. She took a graceful flying leap and dove into the portal. The instant she went through, the portal zapped closed, plunging the room into darkness.

Spike reeled, slammed his hand against the nearest wall to keep from falling over. For a moment, he thought he'd lost her completely. But then he felt it, the faintest trace of her through the link. She was still with him, albeit distant.

Anya's voice broke the stunned silence, "What was that about an exchange?"

As if on cue, there was a flash and a gust of wind, and they all found themselves confronting a massive demon with a thick grayish hide and black tusks jutting from its lower jaw.

"Ah, this must be the exchange student," Xander quipped, just before the demon grabbed him and flung him across the room. He landed on the coffee table, smashing it to splinters. Yet another piece of furniture destroyed.

Tara tried to utter some kind of spell, but the demon's arm struck her before she could finish. As Willow rushed to her girlfriend's side, Robin produced a handful of throwing stars seemingly from nowhere and flung them at the creature. The blades embedded themselves in the demon's thick hide, which only seemed to irritate it. Robin lashed out at the creature with several well-aimed kicks and punches. The demon snarled and knocked the demon hunter aside.

"Weapons!" Kennedy shouted. Dawn ran to the nearest weapons chest, tossed a sword to the Potential and grabbed one for herself. The two girls rushed towards the demon with their weapons raised. With unexpectedly swift reflexes, the demon caught both girls' wrists and twisted the swords from their grasps, then flung the girls away and sent them crashing into the sofa.

Spike leapt onto the demon's back and gripped its neck in a half-nelson. "Clear out of here! All of you!" he shouted, "Unless you wanna end up all dead and useless."

"What're you gonna do?" Kennedy yelled.

Spike punched the creature hard in the ribs, slammed its head into the wall. "What I do best."

The demon suddenly twisted around and grabbed the vampire by the neck. With a single powerful heave, Spike was sent crashing through the ceiling to land in a graceless heap on the floor of one of the second-story rooms. The demon then smashed its way through the French doors and then out the front entry to storm off into the night.

* * *

Buffy tumbled through the portal, the air knocked out of her when her body struck the ground. For a second she panicked; the link was gone! But no, there it was, little more than a thread. She couldn't tell what Spike was feeling, but she knew he was there. Just barely. Kind of impressive, considering she'd jumped into another dimension.

Reassured, Buffy slowly picked herself up and took in her surroundings. She was in a desert; dry, cracked earth, towering rock formations, cacti and clumps of scrub grass. She squinted in the blazing sunlight. "Well...guess that worked."

There was the vague impression of a path in front of her. With no better options in sight, Buffy began to follow it, wishing she'd thought to put on more sensible shoes beforehand. Definitely not the kind of terrain for high heels.

* * *

Spike woke with a groan. Someone was shaking him. He cracked open an eye and saw Dawn's anxious face hovering over him.

"A-Are you okay?" the teen stammered.

Spike winced as he slowly rose up to his knees. He noticed something in his periphery and turned his head to see the large hole his passage had left behind. He grunted, "'Parently, crashin' through the ceiling's what I do best."

"You're okay, though. Right?"

"I'm fine, Niblet." He mustered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Go on back to the others. I'll be down in a few. Soon as my bloody head stops ringin'."

Reluctantly, the girl nodded and did as she was told. Spike sat back on his heels and cradled his head in his hands. God, that was pathetic! Didn't even last two bloody seconds against that beastie! It wasn't even because that demon was stronger than him. He'd gone up against worse in his time, and won. No, Buffy was right, he wasn't half the fighter he used to be. And it was his own bloody fault for letting it happen.

With an angry growl, Spike got to his feet and made his way back down to the first floor. He could hear the Scoobies arguing over their next course of action. Anya was all for letting Buffy fend for herself. Kennedy and Tara were trying to convince Willow to use her magic to reopen the portal. Robin and Xander were fretting about the demon on the loose, and them with no Slayer to deal with it.

"If we wanna get Buffy back, we need an exchange," Kennedy stated, "I'm thinking a Slayer for a demon."

Robin nodded in agreement. "We have to find that demon and send it through the portal."

"It matter if it's dead or alive?" the Potential asked.

Spike chose that moment to speak up, "I vote dead." Several surprised pairs of eyes looked his way. He leaned heavily against the doorjamb, his blue gaze fixed on the red haired witch. "The Slayer's countin' on you, Willow. Get crackin' on that portal, and don't be stingy with the mojo. The demon's mine."

"I hate to say it, Big Bad," Kennedy retorted bluntly, "but you look like you can barely stand. We're trained. And the only thing we know for sure about this demon is it kicked your ass."

Spike's mouth twisted in a wry grin. "It did at that." He turned and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Robin's question held an edge of hostility which the vampire chose to ignore.

"Somethin' I need," was all he said in response. His abused muscles groaned in protest as he climbed the stairs to the second floor once again. He went straight to his and Buffy's room and began rummaging in the closet. He found what he was looking for crammed all the way in the back.

Spike shook out his duster, put it on with a swirl of black leather, straightened the collar and shrugged his shoulders into place. It had been too long since he'd worn his signature coat. Already he felt more like himself. Spike left the bedroom and walked down the hall, his characteristic swagger back in place. As he descended the steps, he saw Principal Wood leaning against the bannister, watching him.

"Where you goin'?" the demon hunter drawled.

"Got a job," Spike answered tersely, headed for the front door.

"Nice coat," Wood remarked, "Where'd you get it?"

Spike could tell the guy was fishing, but at that moment he really didn't give a shit if the wanker put two and two together. He had more important things to worry about. So he told him, "New York."

He marched out the door without another word. He had a demon to track down.

* * *

Meanwhile, after an interminable time spent walking through the sweltering desert, Buffy came across three men sitting in a circle. They were dark-skinned, their clothes strangely elaborate, and each held in his hand a long wooden staff. Buffy approached them warily.

"Hello? I'm Buffy. I'm the Slayer."

The first man spoke in an unknown, but ancient-sounding language, _"We know who you are."_

_"And we know why you're here,"_ said the second.

_"We've been waiting,"_ the third man stated.

The Slayer blinked. "Good. That's...good, then. Um, you know, I know we have bigger issues to deal with, but how'd I understand anything you guys just said?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know. Ancient magics. I just thought it was neat."

The three men stood and began circling her.

_"We have been here since the beginning,"_ the first man said.

_"Now, we are almost at the end,"_ the second added.

Great, more with the cryptic. "And the neat of it just left," Buffy sighed, "Uh, end of what?"

_"You are the Hellmouth's last guardian,"_ the third man declared.

"Uh, latest," Buffy corrected, "Y-You mean 'latest guardian.'"

_"No."_

Buffy's head kept twisting around to keep the three mysterious men in sight. Their constant circling around her was putting her on edge. "Okay, um, I-I have a First to fight, okay? So, just tell me what I need to know. I-I came to learn."

_"We cannot give you knowledge,"_ the first man solemnly informed her, _"Only power."_

"You know what I think?" she huffed, impatient, "I'm not really here at all. None of this is actually happening. This is like a play. Like some...shadow play. Some...nonreality, reenactment, hologrammy—"

Her little rant was cut short as one of the Shadow Men clubbed the back of her head with his staff. When she swam back into consciousness some time later, she found herself lying on a cool stone floor. She raised her head, saw that she was in some kind of cave or underground chamber. Torches cast their flickering light over the area. The three Shadow Men stood a short distance from her, arrayed around a large spiral carved into the floor. Buffy stood and discovered both her wrists were chained to the cave floor. "What is this?"

The first man answered, _"We are at the beginning."_

_"The source of your strength,"_ the third man declared, _"The well of the Slayer's power."_

_"This is why we have brought you here,"_ the first man said.

"I thought I brought me here." Buffy struggled against the chains. "Look. Listen, you guys. I'm already the Slayer, bursting with power. Really don't need any more."

_"The first Slayer did not talk so much,"_ the first man remarked. He and his companions began to drum their staffs against the floor in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. _Thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud._ After a moment, the first Shadow Man broke away from the group and picked up a small wooden box. He placed the box at the center of the spiral and slid off the lid. _"Herein lies your truest strength."_

_"The energy of the demon,"_ said the second man, _"Its spirit."_

_"Its heart,"_ said the third.

As the drumming of the staffs continued, something rose from the box. It looked like a curl of smoke, slithering through the air like a serpent, alive.

Buffy's eyes widened. "This is how you..."

_"Created the Slayer?"_ the first man nodded, _"Yes."_

The coil of smoke, the Shadow Demon, slithered towards Buffy.

_"It must become one with you,"_ the third intoned.

Buffy yanked at the chains restraining her. "No!"

_"This will make you ready for the fight,"_ the first man declared.

"By making me less human?" She remembered all too well the Primitive that had visited her dreams, the insanity and suffering in her eyes, her humanity eaten away by the terrible power bestowed on her. Buffy knew if this Shadow Demon took her, she would share the Primitive's fate.

_"This is how it was then,"_ the first man stated, voice solemn, _"How it must be now."_

_"This is all there is,"_ the second man agreed.

The Shadow Demon forced its way into her nose and mouth. Buffy screamed with everything she had, expelling the unwanted invader. "Make this stop!"

The Shadow Men seemed confused by her resistance. _"This is what you came for."_

"No, this isn't the way!"

_"Do not fight this."_

Buffy tensed as the Shadow Demon swirled around her.

* * *

Spike found the demon just a few blocks from the house, scrounging in an alley dumpster, of all things. He took advantage of its distraction, slipped into his gameface, and pounced before the demon could react. He was almost immediately knocked back with a solid elbow to the face. Spike felt the blood trickle from a gash over his right eyebrow and laughed. "Oh, come on, now, Nancy. Call yourself a demon?" he taunted, "Thought you were up for a proper fight."

The demon backhanded him and sent him sprawling into some nearby trashcans. Spike grinned, his newly split lip bleeding. "Now we're talkin'."

He clambered to his feet, feinted a punch. The demon ducked and grabbed him around the waist. Spike immediately wrapped his own arms around the creature's neck and headbutted it. As the two of them staggered apart, Spike beckoned the demon with both hands. _Bring it on, you pillock._

His head jerked to the side from a hard punch. Another blow to the stomach doubled him over. Then a strike across the throat had him slump against the wall. Spike glared up at his opponent and got to his feet. As the demon raised both fists to smash him, the vampire lashed out with a hard strike to the stomach. The demon groaned and doubled over, giving Spike the chance to knock it to the ground. As he loomed over the temporarily stunned creature, Spike let out a maniacal laugh. He flung his head back and howled at the sky, then he raised his fist and threw himself at his opponent. _"Yeah!"_

They fought on, neither one holding back. The more brutal the demon became, the more Spike gave himself over to the violence. And the more like himself he became.

The battle ended with both fighters barely able to stand. Spike's back collided with the wall as he and the demon wrestled. The demon's claws wrapped around his throat. The vampire gripped the sides of the creature's head and with a final, sharp jerk, snapped the demon's neck. The body fell with a loud thud.

Spike sniffed and leaned against the wall, utterly spent. After a moment, he dug through his coat pockets and produced a cigarette. "I don't know your feelings, big guy," he said, putting the cigarette between his lips, "but to me, a tussle like that..." He bent down, struck a match against the demon's tusk, and brought it to the cigarette. "...is good for the soul."

At that first satisfying inhale, his face relaxed back into its human features.

* * *

After repelling several of the Shadow Demon's attempts to merge with her, Buffy's fear had long since given way to righteous anger. She scowled at the three men. "You think I came all this way to get knocked up by some demon dust? I can't fight this. I know that, now. But you guys, you're just men," with a hard yank, she broke her chains loose from their anchors, "Just the men who did this...to her. Whoever that girl was before she was the first Slayer."

_"You don't understand,"_ the first Shadow Man argued.

"No, _you_ don't understand!" Buffy snapped, "You violated that girl, made her kill for you because you're weak, you're pathetic, and you obviously have nothing to show me."

She swung the chains, striking the second and third Shadow Men who moved to stop her. They weren't super-strong like her, which made them almost ridiculously easy to knock out. The first Shadow Man just stood by and watched as she picked up the other men's staffs and snapped them over her knee. The Shadow Demon faded and disappeared.

Buffy smirked, "I knew it. It's always the staff."

The first man looked disappointed. _"We offered you power."_

"Tell me something I don't know," she challenged.

_"As you wish."_ The man touched the side of her face. Buffy gasped at the vision she received, and whatever hope she might have had for an easy victory withered away to nothing.

Then the cave, the Shadow Men, all vanished in a bright glow, and when it cleared, Buffy found herself back in her living room. Her friends all stood around her, looking exhausted and tentatively hopeful. Willow was leaning heavily against Xander, her spellcasting having taken its toll. Spike's face was battered and bruised, and he was hunched over, hands resting on his knees. Buffy saw that he was finally wearing his duster. She felt his weariness and triumph, and was so grateful to have the full depth of their link again.

She should have been elated; they'd all obviously pushed themselves to the limit to get her back. Gotten past their need for caution, just like she wanted. But all she could think about was the terrible vision, and the realization that none of it was enough.

* * *

After she told her story, everyone insisted that Buffy get some rest from her ordeal. She showered and changed into some comfortable pajamas, but even though she was physically exhausted, her thoughts were too restless for sleep. So she sat up in bed, alone in her room, worrying.

Her troublesome thoughts eased a little when she sensed Spike's approach. He entered the room, shrugged off his duster and draped it over a chair, then sat down on the edge of the bed closest to her. "How you doin'?"

Buffy reached up, trailed her fingers over the cuts and bruises marring his face. "I was hard on everyone today."

"You needed to be." Spike cocked his head, sensing her turmoil. "What's wrong, luv?"

Buffy swallowed. "I think I made a mistake. Those men that I met—y'know, the Shadow Men—they offered me more power," she pursed her lips, "But I didn't like the loophole."

"So, you turned it down." At her solemn nod, he took her into his arms and let her rest her forehead against his shoulder. "It's alright, luv," he soothed, "We'll get by. We always do."

Buffy breathed in the comforting scent of cigarettes and Spike. "I don't know," she murmured into his shoulder, "They showed me..."

"What?"

She drew back to meet his concerned gaze, and Spike was troubled by the despair he saw in her hazel-green eyes. "That the first Slayer was right," she answered, "It isn't enough."

"Buffy," Spike hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to know, "What did you see?"

Buffy told him.

* * *

Far beneath the Seal of Danzalthar, an army of Turok-Han, thousands upon thousands, waited to be unleashed on the world.


	17. Chapter 17: Storyteller

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Holding my breath as I patiently wait_

_What could come next_

_You turned on a light in my gullible mind_

_I let you inside_

_Just like a child imagining what could be_

_I let it run wild_

_I was naïve_

_It's too good to be true_

_Still I believed_

_You told me what I wanted to hear_

_Your words paint pictures so sincere_

_Well, some things aren't as they appear_

_The fantasy is over_

-Trapt, "Storyteller"

Andrew was driving Buffy crazy. He'd recently gotten hold of a video camera from somewhere and got it in his head to "document" the day-to-day operations of Team Slayer. Everywhere Buffy turned, there he was pointing that stupid camera lens at her, running off commentary on the fly. It was beyond annoying.

"It is a cold night, and the wind is croo-el," Andrew murmured as he surreptitiously (he thought) trailed after Buffy while she patrolled one of the cemeteries, "But the Slayer has a job to do." A fledgeling vamp jumped out of hiding. "Unfortunately, vampyrs have a job to do, too," Andrew added, placing a ridiculous inflection on the word "vampire."

Buffy leapt to the top of a large tombstone and fired off her crossbow, dusting the vamp instantly. As she hopped down from her perch, a second fledgeling appeared and managed to knock the slightly off-guard Slayer into the hard marble gravestone.

"Ouch! My goodness!" Andrew exclaimed, "Things look bad for the Slayer, don't they? She didn't see that second vampyr concealed by cover of darkness, ready to attack and make her his own vampirical spawn."

As the vampire came at her, Buffy's arm lashed out at the last second and drove a stake into the creature's chest. She stood, wiping off the dust, and gritted her teeth when she saw Andrew trotting towards her, camera at the ready.

"That was great," the amateur videographer gushed, "I completely got you dusting that guy on film. Hey, why do vampires show up on video?"

"I told you I didn't want you doing that," Buffy growled, "It's distracting."

She started marching off for home, Andrew trotting alongside.

"Okay, I'll cut the footage together and do the intro tomorrow," he dropped his voice to what he thought was a more dramatic sounding pitch, "She was a woman in danger. Or was she?"

"Are you still filming me? Stop!"

"But it's—it's a valuable record," he insisted, "An important document for the ages. A Slayer in action."

"A nerd in pain. Would they like that?" Buffy countered, "'Cause we could do that."

"But the—the story needs to be told."

Buffy huffed and rolled her eyes. She tried her best to ignore him the rest of the walk home. As soon as they entered the house, she dashed upstairs and shut the door to her room behind her before Andrew could pester her any further. She wished she could've slammed it, but that would have woken the Potentials currently taking up floor space in the bedroom.

Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow at her abrupt entrance. He was lounging in the bed, wearing the pajama pants he so resented, a book propped on his lap. He and Buffy had agreed that at least one of them should stay behind while the other patrolled to protect the girls, just in case. From the vibes he was picking up through the link, it seemed he'd gotten the better end of the deal this night. At least all he had to combat was boredom.

"Run into some trouble?"

Buffy began stripping out of her clothes, flinging them into the laundry basket with unnecessary force. "Andrew," she griped in a whisper, "Little twerp followed me around all night with that stupid camera."

Spike's mouth twitched in amusement. He closed and set his book aside, swung his legs off the bed and stood. Buffy was already slipping into a nightgown as the blonde vampire approached her from behind. She sighed when she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders and start kneading away the tension.

"The boy just wants to feel like he's doin' something useful."

"It's not just that," Buffy muttered, calmer, but still irritated, "He's using it to distance himself. Turning everything into a movie so he won't have to deal with everything that's happening. Everything he did."

"Like murdering that other one," Spike guessed.

"Jonathan. Yeah. He never took responsibility for killing him, and now he's acting like nothing even happened." Buffy pursed her lips. "And on top of that, the Hellmouth's been acting up again. Sometimes I think I can feel it all the way over here."

"You 'n' me both." Spike wound his arms around her shoulders, pulled her back so she leaned against him. He nuzzled the side of her neck, his lips brushing against her Claim mark. "We'll deal with it, luv. But right now you need to get some shuteye. You're knackered."

Buffy sighed, "If you mean dead on my feet, then yeah." There was always so much to do, and it never felt like she accomplished anything.

She let Spike guide her to the bed, stepping over the prone figures of Potentials wrapped like cocoons in their sleeping bags. She lay down and he drew the covers over her, then Spike walked to the other side of the bed to join her. Buffy watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with her. When Spike got into bed, Buffy instinctively rolled onto her side and snuggled up to him. She let sleep overtake her, and for a few hours was able to forget about the Hellmouth, the First, and Andrew.

* * *

Morning, of course, was a different story.

Andrew entered the crowded kitchen, taking in the bustling Potentials through his camera lense. "It's morning in Sunnydale—"

Rona's exasperated voice cut him off mid-narration, "Who the hell's got the low-fat milk?"

Andrew cleared his throat and started again, "It's morning in Sunnydale, and the women of command central take the time to fortify themselves for the day ahead."

"Hey!" Xander protested, standing off to the side eating dry cereal straight from the box.

"Women and Xander," Andrew amended. "Hey, I'm gonna do your special intro later," he told the carpenter, "The man who is the heart of the Slayer machine."

Xander grinned, flattered. "Yeah? The heart?"

Andrew continued to pan around the kitchen, capturing numerous girls eating a variety of cereals, boxes and bowls cluttering the counter. "Things are tense in command central this morning. Buffy is clearly concerned with some unknown danger and the air is filled with foreboding."

Dawn suddenly spoke up, "Oh, um, we're out of raisin bran."

"I'll put it on the list," Anya replied.

"That's probably not the...unknown danger," Andrew muttered awkwardly. He brightened as Buffy and Spike appeared at the doorway.

"Look at this place," the vampire scoffed, "A damn girls dorm is what it is." He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his trusty Zippo.

Dawn grimaced. "That's nice! Secondhand stinkiness."

Spike ignored her and blew out a tendril of smoke.

"It's a full house," Andrew remarked, "I think it's a good time to do some introductions. Don't you, gentle viewers?"

His camera came to rest on Amanda, who grinned and waved hello. "I'm Amanda, and I grew up right here—"

"No, not you, sweetheart," Andrew interrupted with an apologetic wince, "Let's start from the top."

Spike listened with amusement as the boy started his introductions. He could imagine the scene running through Andrew's head: golden light flooding the place, everybody moving around like slo-mo models while wind from an unseen fan blew their hair dramatically.

"You've already met Buffy. She's beautiful, with a lion's heart and—and the face of an angel. She's never afraid, because she knows her side will always win."

Spike glanced at the woman in question and saw her roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Buffy and Spike have some kind of history," the clueless Andrew continued, "You can feel the heat between them—although, technically, as a vampyr, he's room temperature."

Spike shook his head, a laugh struggling to escape.

"Anya, a feisty waif with a fiery temper and a vulnerable heart that she hides, even from herself."

The former demon raised an eyebrow at that.

"This lovely girl," Andrew's panning camera came to rest on one of the Potentials eating cereal, "I don't remember her name."

"Oh, for god's sake," Buffy finally cracked, "Can't we make him stop?"

"I don't know," Rona spoke up, thoughtful, "If we save the world, it will be kinda nice to have a record of it."

Amanda added with a shrug, "If we don't save the world, then...nothing matters."

"That's catchy, Amanda," Kennedy responded sarcastically, "Let's make that our slogan."

"Yeah, it is kind of strange how you keep savin' the world and there's not any proof," Xander remarked to Buffy.

Anya nodded, "Yeah. Y'know, for future generations."

"And it does help the girls with training," Willow suggested, "You know, viewing the tapes."

Buffy stared at her friends, incredulous. "C'mon, no one else thinks this is idiotic?"

"Buff, I don't get why this is botherin' you so much," Xander replied.

"Because it's a waste of time," she all but snapped, "Come on, someone has to agree with me. Spike?"

The vampire gave an indifferent shrug. "As long as you're not pointin' that thing at me, it seems like a fine way to keep the boy busy."

Buffy threw him a glare. _Thanks a lot._ "This isn't about keeping busy. This is about war," she turned to the others, particularly the girls, "I-I'm sorry to jump all over you guys, but...I have to tell you what's really going on. There's something new. Amanda, Dawn, you're gonna stay home from school today. We can survive what's coming, but not like this. I had a vision of what's to come. A horrible vision..."

She explained to them what she'd seen, the army of Turok-Han hidden beneath the Seal of Danzalthar. While she talked, Spike left the room. He already knew all this. Buffy also noticed that Andrew had wandered off, which in her mind was a bonus. By the time she finally wrapped up her speech, the girls were fidgeting. Buffy stifled a sigh; she wasn't very good at this, conveying the seriousness of the situation. Seemed all she did anymore was give long speeches nobody wanted to listen to. She glanced at the wall clock and saw she was running late. Dawn might not be going to school today, but Buffy still had to work.

Things were as bad at the high school as she'd feared. Just the first minute after entering the school building, Buffy had to break up a fight out in the hall. After sending the combatants to class, she noticed a girl standing in a corner who was slowly fading to invisibility. Buffy hurried over and gave the shy girl a light slap to the face to let her know that, yes, she did exist. No sooner had she averted that little disaster then another girl came out of the bathroom, sobbing and wailing about how the mirror had literally called her fat. Then Buffy heard a guy stressing about all the schoolwork he couldn't keep up with.

"I can't take this semester anymore. It's just so much for me to handle. So not only does Mr. Hildebad move up the trig exam to today, but he also makes it cover three more chapters, and I've got an English paper due tomorrow. I feel like I'm gonna explode!"

Buffy rushed to the boy's side. "Hey, uh, I can help. You just need to relax, y'know?" She turned to the kid's friends, "Think one of you guys could give him a foot rub?"

The overwrought teen blinked at her. "What?"

Buffy finally entered the faculty office only to find Principal Wood standing by the counter with a tissue pressed to his bleeding forehead, an open first-aid kit in front of him.

"You're hurt! What happened?"

"Someone threw a rock at me as I got out of my car," Robin answered, "I didn't really get a good chance to see who."

Buffy rummaged in the kit for a band-aid. "Yeah, well, it could've been any of 'em—students, teachers. Something is going on today."

Robin's mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "Yes, well, um, that occurred to me as I ducked the other two rocks. Buffy, what the hell is this?"

Buffy snorted, "Everything." She carefully applied the band-aid to the gash over his left eye.

"Slowly," the principal half-joked, "I may be concussed here."

"There's this thing that happens here, in this school, over the Hellmouth," Buffy tried to explain, "The way a thing feels...i-it kind of starts being that way for real. I've seen all these things before, just not...all at once."

Robin frowned. "So, what, it's like hell's a-bustin' out all over?"

Buffy smirked, "Exactly."

"So, what's the worst that can happen?"

"War, pretty much."

The principal's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I see you're being amusing, now, with comical exaggeration."

Buffy leaned against the counter, a faraway look in her eyes. "Being in high school can feel like being at war. Now it's true. The students feel like the teachers are out to get them, the Chess Club resents the French Club for taking the activities room, and, well, _everybody_ hates the cheerleaders." Her expression turned sober, "If we don't do something about this, we're gonna have a riot on our hands. And a lot of other nasty stuff, too."

"Like what?" Robin asked.

Right at that moment, the overstressed student Buffy spoke to earlier let out a loud scream, then there was a wet pop and blood and other unspeakable stuff splattered the office window. Buffy ruefully shook her head, "He really should've had that foot rub."

* * *

Buffy and Robin made their way down to the basement. Buffy had a theory that the reason everything was happening all at once was because the Hellmouth's energy was trying to escape from the seal in an intense, concentrated flow, like a geyser. When they reached the room where the Seal of Danzalthar was located, Buffy was perturbed to find that it was once again unburied.

"I swear we just covered this thing up."

"It doesn't want to stay hidden anymore," Robin mused, "It wants to turn these kids into monsters and victims and who knows what."

Buffy chewed her lip. "Well, it's more than that. Look, Robin, I um...I had a vision the other day."

"You have visions?" the principal looked at her in surprise.

"Sometimes." She told him the same thing she'd told the others back at the house; about the horde of Turok-Han waiting to be unleashed. "The last übervamp I faced crawled out of that very hole. Makes me awfully nervous." Buffy frowned as Robin stepped down onto the seal. "What're you doing?"

Robin crouched down to scrutinize the intricate patterns. "Have you ever really studied it? You know, gotten close?"

"Well, I know it's a goat with its tongue out," she replied, a touch flippant, "Willow did a search on the symbolic database, but, uh, turns out everybody likes a good goat's tongue. Rock groups, covens, Greek cookbooks. She said she couldn't narrow it down."

"And you trust her?"

Buffy frowned at the unexpected question. "Why wouldn't I trust her?"

"I don't know why any of you should trust each other," Wood muttered, "You've all been evil at some point, right?"

"No, that's...that's not true," Buffy stammered, "I mean, yeah, Willow had a bad patch, but _I've_ never been."

"Evil is what evil does," Robin's voice was pitched unnaturally low. He straightened and Buffy saw his eyes had turned cloudy, his expression vacant. But his too-deep voice was full of rage, "And I know what you're doing. You're with that vampire. Screwing that vampire. You filthy whore!"

Wood lunged. Buffy dodged to the side and shoved him against the wall. "Robin, are you okay?"

He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes back to normal. "What happened?"

Buffy glanced at the seal. "I-I think it was controlling you."

"Buffy, we gotta get rid of this seal," the principal declared in alarm, "We gotta shut it down before it starts affecting everyone."

Buffy nodded, "Think I have a pretty good idea who we should talk to."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

"The guy that fed it its first drop of blood."

* * *

They marched into the living room where Andrew was busy narrating to his camera.

"Heads up, Andrew," the Slayer interrupted, "We gotta talk."

"We just spent the day keeping a lid on a war," the principal stated.

Andrew perked up at this. "Ooh! That would be very exciting on tape."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped, "The school is out of control with energy from the Hellmouth. It's time for you to help, Andrew."

Andrew fidgeted in his seat, "Well, right now I'm really more about the recording of—"

"No. No more watching," Buffy's tone brooked no argument, "The seal thing is your baby, and you gotta get in there before it tears everything apart."

They gathered the Scoobies and Spike into the living room. Kennedy was there as well, having argued that the Potentials should be kept in the loop, and since she was more or less the leader of the Potentials... Buffy didn't waste time they didn't have on arguing. Besides, Kennedy did have a point. The Potentials should know what was going on, and having one of them acting as a sort of representative was easier than cramming them all together in one room.

Tara produced what looked like an ordinary lump of glassy stone. "I-It's a memory charm," the witch explained, "It'll help him pull up the memories we need as clearly as if they were happening n-now."

"Can you make it so we see the memories, too?" Buffy asked.

Tara nodded. She moved to kneel in front of Andrew and held the charm out to him. After chanting a few words, the stone began to glow. "Look into the charm," the witch instructed, "Focus on what we need to know. Remember how you activated the Seal of Danzalthar."

Reluctantly, Andrew stared at the glowing charm and let his thoughts slip back. The others tensed in surprise as a scene played out in their own minds, almost like a movie.

It was somewhere in Mexico, in 2002. Andrew and Jonathan were asleep in the rundown shack they called home. Both men tossed and turned restlessly, their dreams assaulted by images they didn't understand. A voice chanted over and over, "_Desde abajo te devora. Desde abajo te devora..._"

They woke gasping in fright.

"Omigod! Omigod!" Andrew blurted.

"Did you have it again?" Jonathan asked.

Andrew nodded, "I had it again. And that voice. What does it mean?"

"Let's try looking it up again in the morning in the _diccionario,_" Jonathan heaved a shaky sigh, "Holy cats, that was terrifying."

"We're fugitives," Andrew murmured, "haunted by our past, tormented by a message we don't understand."

"We're hunted men," Jonathan agreed, "driven mad by forces beyond our understanding."

"We're men of faded power, tortured from within by—by a voice out of nowhere."

"I don't deserve this," Jonathan lamented, "I wasn't even that evil!"

"I thought you were evil," Andrew said helpfully.

Jonathan threw him a hopeful glance. "Yeah?"

"Sure," was Andrew's sincere reply, "I respected your ideas for evil projects, and I thought you had good follow-through."

"Oh. Well, thanks," his friend smiled, "It's nice that you noticed."

Willow's voice suddenly cut in, "Okay, I think we're getting a little off track here."

The scene abruptly vanished, returning them all to the present.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," Andrew whined, "Everyone's staring at me."

"Just focus on the charm," Tara urged, "Y-You have to focus on the charm to pull the memories out."

Andrew turned his face away from the glowing stone. "But it tickles, and I'm all tense. Can't I have a cool, refreshing Zima?"

"No Zima," Buffy refused for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Shut your face about the Zima," Spike growled, "Just talk."

"You were the first one to uncover the seal and feed it blood," Buffy stated, "How did you know it was there? How'd you know what to do?"

Andrew squirmed, "I-I don't know. Stuff happened. I...I forget."

"So remember," Kennedy insisted, "Look at the charm."

"But I'm not a part of this," Andrew denied, "I document. I don't participate. I'm the detached journalist recording with a neutral eye."

"Andrew!" Buffy yelled, "Stop it, or I'm going to smash this camera over your head." She held the item up for emphasis. "Actually, I'm gonna do that anyway, so you might as well talk."

"And stop going off topic," Willow added.

"I wasn't off topic," Andrew retorted, defensive, "It's gonna get relevant in a second, because Jonathan's gonna go to the bathroom..."

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Jonathan hopped out of bed and disappeared through a nearby door.

Andrew lay quietly for a moment, then almost jumped out of his skin when the First, in the guise of Warren, leaned over him. "Did you get the knife?"

"Uh, yeah," Andrew stammered, "It wasn't easy. I had to meet this demon guy who sells all kinds of weird weapons and stuff."

"Show me the knife," the First ordered, "Quick, before shortcake comes back."

Andrew got up and retrieved a box from under the bed. "Oh, it'll be a while. He's got a shy bladder. Jonathan, you okay in there?"

"Don't talk to me! I'm fine," Jonathan's muffled voice answered.

Andrew opened the box and pulled out an ancient-looking dagger. "Pretty knife, except the—uh, stabbing. I-I don't think I can do it."

Not-Warren offered a smile of encouragement. "You _can_ stab him. It's all part of the plan. That boy's blood is a powerful tribute. It's a gift to something very big, very important. And ultimately, it won't even hurt him. We get a reward. You and me and him, too."

"We live as gods," Andrew breathed.

"That's right, man," the First grinned, "The Trio, livin' as gods."

A dreamy expression came over Andrew's face. The scene suddenly shifted into a valley filled with colorful flowers, a unicorn trotting in the background and piles of gold scattered here and there. Andrew, Jonathan, and Warren pranced around in loose togas, Andrew strumming a harp and warbling, "We are as gods! We are as gods! We are as goddds!"

It snapped back to the bedroom with the First saying, "There's power in that knife. Drive the words deep into him. It's the only way for us to get our reward."

"Got it. If I kill him with this knife, we live as gods." Andrew got that dreamy look again, about to return to his fantasy, when Willow interjected.

"Wait a second. Go back. What was that part again?"

"You mean this part?" Andrew took them back to the fantasyland. "We are as gaaahhhhds!"

"Not that part," Willow interrupted, dragging them back to the present, "We need to see that knife. There's something there."

Buffy turned to the Potential, "Kennedy, search his stuff. Find the knife."

"It's not in my stuff," Andrew lowered his head, looking uncomfortable, "It's...in the kitchen cutlery drawer. You didn't have any steak knives."

Everyone stared at him. Even Spike seemed taken aback by this.

"You put your old murder weapon in with our utensils?" Willow gaped at him, appalled.

"I washed it," Andrew helpfully responded.

"What are you lookin' for?" Spike asked, returning to the subject at hand.

Willow answered, "The first said something about words. 'Drive the words deep into him.'"

"There was some carving on the blade," Andrew told them, "I just thought it was a pattern."

Kennedy returned with the dagger and handed it to Willow. The redhead examined the blade for a moment, then held it out to Andrew. "Okay. You're Mr. Demon Summoner. How are you with demon languages?"

He squinted at the patterns etched into the blade. "It's in Tuwarik. It's, uh, like, proto-Tuwarik. It's really, really old."

"But, what's the big?" Kennedy asked.

"We've never know anything about this seal," Robin said, "Now we know that this knife and this language are connected to it, somehow."

"Andrew, do you speak Tuwarik?" Tara asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay with it. It says...'The blood which I spill, I consecrate to the oldest evil.'"

Buffy looked at Willow. "You think you can do something with that?"

Willow took the knife back. "Let me work on it."

Buffy followed the redhead into the next room where the laptop was set up, leaving the others to wait in the living room. Some time later, Willow found what they needed. "I think it's got a shot."

Buffy nodded, a plan already forming in her mind. Unfortunately, she sensed that time was of the essence, which meant she wouldn't have a chance to take the others aside and fill them in without tipping Andrew off. She would just have to hope that they played along.

"Guess what, Andy. You just won yourself a free vacation to the beautiful downtown Hellmouth."

Andrew sulked, but for once actually kept silent. The others looked puzzled.

"So he can do what?" Spike asked, "Yell at it in its own language?"

Buffy half-shrugged. "Maybe."

"What? I-I'm not following," Robin blurted.

"We have to deal with the seal right away," Buffy stated firmly, "We already might have to shut the school down, and I'm not losing any more territory to the First. Besides, it's the only thing we've got."

Willow backed her up, "The seal responds to this language, somehow, o-or the First wouldn't have needed the knife. Andrew knows the language, can really talk to it, maybe give it commands."

"C'mon. Robin, Spike, let's go." Buffy headed for the door, hoping they wouldn't ask any more questions. She knew Spike would sense she was up to something she couldn't talk about, but Robin was still an unknown quantity. She wasn't sure he trusted her enough to be willing to go along with what sounded like a very tenuous plan.

Andrew seemed resigned to whatever fate was in store for him. He didn't argue as the two men escorted him out of the house. They all piled into Wood's car and rode out to the high school.

It was chaos. Graffiti everywhere, trash and broken furniture littering the floor. Someone had even dragged a bunch of oil barrels into the building and lit fires in them. Buffy shook her head in dismay. "The riot that almost happened."

"Looks to me like it happened, after all," the principal remarked.

There was a distant shout and something shattered against the far wall.

"Looks to me like it's still happening," Spike drawled, shining his flashlight over the surrounding wreckage, "Nice way to run a school. There's gotta be kids injured in here."

"Yeah. Easy pickings for the likes of you, huh?" Robin sneered.

Spike bristled at the man's tone. "Hey, here to help, you know."

Robin snorted, "Right."

Standing a few paces back, Andrew turned his camera towards himself and whispered excitedly, "Check out Spike and the principal. There's something going on there. Sexual tension you could cut with a knife."

They continued to make their way down the hall towards the door leading to the basement. Every once in a while they glimpsed figures running by or heard voices shouting.

"These kids really went nuts, didn't they?" Spike muttered.

"No kidding," the principal retorted just a tad too loud.

Buffy shushed him, "They'll hear you."

"Buffy, they're all the way down—" A fire extinguisher came swinging out of nowhere and knocked Robin to the floor. Seconds later, they were all under attack.

Spike was startled when a hit to the jaw sent him sprawling. "Kids are getting stronger!"

Andrew scuttled to the nearest dark corner and huddled with his precious camera. "Oh, god. Struck down before I achieve redemption."

Spike, Robin, and Buffy continued to fight off the hyped-up teenagers. At one point, when the vampire had a kid pinned to the wall, Buffy shouted, "Spike, don't kill them! They're just students."

It wasn't because she suddenly didn't trust him. She'd said it for Robin's benefit, to show him that Spike's aggressions were under control. Spike realized this, so he didn't take it personal. Instead, he knocked out the kid he was fighting and replied, "They'll live."

Having fought off the worst of the attack, they rushed to the basement access.

"Okay, Spike, Wood, I need you guys to stay here. Hold our line of retreat," Buffy ordered.

"So, I'll be staying here with these men, helping out with that holding-the-line thing," Andrew ventured. Buffy gave him an exasperated look and grabbed him by the collar. "I'll be with Buffy," he said as she dragged him through the door. Once the door shut behind them, Andrew returned his attention to his camera. "We make our way down the stairs, carefully, alert for any danger."

"Oh, stop it!" Buffy snatched the camera from him and switched it off, "No more."

"But I just—I just want the world to see what you do," Andrew protested.

"What I do is too important to show the world," Buffy muttered.

"Ooh, I like that!"

"Be quiet!" she hissed, "I don't want a biographer. Especially a murderer."

"Yeah, well, see, about that? We just keep tossing that word around, but that's not really what happened."

Buffy threw him an incredulous look. "What? You stabbed Jonathan to death. What were you trying to do, scratch his back from the front?"

"It was confusing. I-I wasn't going to stab him, but Warren was there and only I could see him," Andrew explained, "And he started yelling at me that I _had_ to stab Jonathan. Then Jonathan saw the knife and he got mad. _He _attacked _me._ Then the knife slipped and... See, I'm a man trapped by circumstances into paying for a crime I didn't even—"

"Huh."

Andrew blinked, "What?"

"I thought you would say that," Buffy told him, "I saw the seal possess Wood like that earlier today."

"Yes..." Andrew's gaze turned distant, "That's exactly what happened! I-I couldn't control myself. It was like something inside me made me do it. It made me stab Jonathan."

Buffy glared at him, her suspicions confirmed. "You just completely changed your entire story."

"Did not," Andrew retorted childishly.

Buffy scoffed, "Uh, you did so."

"Did— Hey, here we are." They'd reached the door leading into the chamber where the seal was located.

Buffy frowned, pressed her ear to the door. She heard something like chanting on the other side. "There's someone in there."

Andrew immediately turned away. "We should go."

Buffy grabbed him. "No. We are going in. Just be prepared, okay? The seal could've done anything to them."

She kicked the door open and rushed the two of them into the room before Andrew could protest. Five teens looked up from where they knelt around the seal. It had done something to them, all right. Their eyes were gone, replaced by symbols carved into their flesh, the fresh wounds gleaming wetly in the dim light cast by the seal.

"Nope," Buffy stared, "They're okay."

* * *

Spike bent down to pick up a wooden board from the floor. Several nails jutted from one end. "Wonder what's keepin' 'em," he muttered, "I thought they'd be up here by now." He examined the makeshift weapon. "How'd they make this in here, you suppose?" He tossed it to Robin.

The principal examined the board thoughtfully. "Woodshop, I guess. Nice to know they're paying attention in class."

Several teens chose that moment to attack. Robin swung the board at them, careful to hit them with the side that didn't have the nails. One particularly hard blow caused the board to shatter. Robin bent down and quickly snatched up a wooden shard. As he straightened, he noticed Spike standing with his back to him, leaning over to catch his unnecessary breath. On impulse, Robin saw his chance and decided to take it. He raised his impromptu stake and lunged towards the vampire's vulnerable back—and was promptly tackled by another attacking student. Spike turned and rushed to the principal's aid.

* * *

Buffy had put the camera down to free her hands. Andrew grabbed it and switched it back on. As he recorded the fight between the Slayer and the new-formed Bringers, he murmured, "She's like a woman fighting for more than life. She fights like fighting _is_ her life. It is the air she breathes, and she knows she will win because there is no alternative."

In the end, her opponents were either unconscious or had run off. Buffy turned to Andrew and reached for something at the small of her back. "It's your turn, Andrew."

Andrew hesitated when he saw Buffy's hand reappear holding the dagger. He looked up from the camera's little screen and nervously backed away. "So, you figure, what? I, uh, I stand on the seal and hold the knife and, like, command it to stop glowing in Tuwarik?"

"Or we could do this." Buffy followed him as they circled the seal, her pace unhurried.

Andrew swallowed, "Do what?"

"Doesn't really make sense, does it?" Buffy said conversationally, "Bringing you here to talk to it? This thing doesn't understand words. It understands blood."

"Blood _opens_ it," he argued, "You don't wanna open it. Opening it...would be bad."

"Yeah, Willow did a little research," her mouth stretched in a humorless smile, "Turns out, the blood of the person that awoke it—_you_—different kind of deal. It reverses the whole thing."

Andrew stumbled away from her, the camera at his side, forgotten. "How—How much blood are you gonna..."

She shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe not enough to kill you."

"So," he tried to bolster himself, "this is my redemption at last. I buy back my bruised soul with the blood of my heart. But—but not enough to—to kill."

"Stop!" Buffy's shout made him jump, "Stop telling stories! Life isn't a story."

Andrew stared at her, wide-eyed. "Sorry. Sorry."

"Shut up," Buffy sounded tired and frustrated, "You always do this. You make everything into a story, so no one's responsible for anything, because they're just following a script."

Andrew's chin trembled, making him look even younger. "Please don't kill me. Warren said Jonathan would be okay. I trusted him, and I lost my friend."

"You didn't lose him," Buffy snapped, "You _murdered_ him."

"I know," tears started to well in his eyes, "You don't need to kill me. You said we could all get through this."

Buffy smiled bitterly, "I made it up. I'm making it all up. So, what kind of hero does that make me?"

"No, you're—you're doing great, really," Andrew stammered desperately, "Kudos."

"Yeah? Well, I don't like having to give a bunch of speeches about how we're all gonna live. Because we _won't_. This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs," she declared with brutal honesty, "Good people are going to die. Girls. Maybe me. Probably you. Probably right now."

"Don't. Please." Andrew gasped as she suddenly grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and thrust him towards the seal. He leaned precariously over the glowing seal, Buffy's strong grip the only thing keeping him from falling. "Don't, please!"

"When your blood pours out, it might save the world. What do you think about that?" she challenged, "Does it buy it all back? Are you redeemed?"

"No," he answered in a tiny voice.

"Why not?"

Andrew's face crumpled. "Because I killed him. Because I...I...I listened to Warren, and I pretended I thought it was him, but I knew—I knew it wasn't," he sobbed, "And I killed Jonathan, and now you're gonna kill me, and I'm—I'm scared and I'm going to die. And this...this is what Jonathan felt." He wept piteously, tears coursing down his cheeks. They dripped from his chin, onto the seal below, and the light flickered and died.

Buffy released her grip and let Andrew fall onto the inert seal. He looked up at her in shock. "It stopped."

"It didn't want blood. It wanted tears." Buffy reached down and helped him back up. "Sorry I had to—"

"You..." Andrew hesitated, "So, you weren't really gonna stab me, were you?"

Buffy's smile was gentle. "I wasn't going to stab you."

"What if the—the tears didn't work?"

She didn't answer, simply turned and led him out the door.

* * *

Robin and Spike were startled when the kids abruptly stopped their attack. It was like a switch had been thrown. The teens began wandering towards the exits, confused looks on their faces.

"What's going on?" Robin looked around, "She got it done."

"Always has," Spike stated with full confidence.

"So far," Robin muttered. He glanced at the vampire, thought about what he'd almost done. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, no thought behind the action. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Buffy and Andrew arrived, both looking worn down by whatever happened down in the basement. Robin tried to ask Buffy about it, but Spike cut him off, sensing that she wasn't up for conversation. She was emotionally drained, and needed time to herself. Spike would make sure she got it.

Andrew didn't say a word the entire ride back to the house. He didn't even use his camera, only held it in his lap. It was the last time anybody saw it. The next day, Andrew had put the camera away.

He did make one last recording that night. He sat in the bathroom, the camera pointed at him. His expression was serious, and more adult that it had ever been before, as was his tone when he spoke.

"Here's the thing. I killed my best friend. There's a big fight coming, and...I don't know what's gonna happen. I don't...even think I'm gonna live through it. That's, uh, probably the way it should be. I guess I'm..." his voice trailed off. A moment later, he reached over and turned off the camera for the last time.


	18. Chapter 18: Lies My Parents Told Me

**A/N:** Here's one of my favorite episodes of Season 7. I was pretty tickled to hear writer/director David Fury say in the episode's commentary that Spike was an anomaly among vampires because he retained a spark of humanity after he was turned. They just never got around to explaining why this is. Also, in an interview I read, James Marsters mentioned that he'd always played Spike as if he had a soul, right from the beginning.

See? Even the cast and crew of _BtVS_ knew Spike was something special. :-) Now, on to the chapter!

Oh, and Happy Birthday, mrs pratt. ;-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I sit waiting for my darkest hour to come_

_I cannot think about the things that I have done_

_It shouldn't take a fool to see that I believe_

_Accept the consequence, repent for what I've done_

_You tell me what is certain, but I'll tell you what is true_

_You tell me what is honesty, when all around is death and cruelty_

_The making of a man is fire, not giving into our desires_

_Within the truth it lies within the only thing_

-Iron Maiden, "Mother of Mercy"

Robin had asked to patrol with Buffy the same night she and Spike planned to clear out a fairly large nest rumored to have sprung up within a mile of the high school. Buffy's first impulse had been to politely turn him down, but then she reconsidered; it would be good to see how well Spike and the principal worked together. They seemed to do okay the week before when she and Andrew shut down the Seal of Danzalthar. She did worry how Spike would handle having a tag-along, though.

"Long as he doesn't get in the way, fine by me," the vampire shrugged. Buffy knew he said it mostly because she wanted this to work, and she appreciated it.

Wood proved he was able to hold his own when they took down the nest. There were over a dozen vampires, most of them fledgelings, which they dusted with deadly efficiency. Soon the three hunters were down to the last three vamps; the oldest and most experience, from the look of it. The battle raged in one of the typical venues for vampire slaying; a deserted alley.

The vamp Spike fought was swinging an old shovel with a broken handle. The idiot kept trying to hit Spike with the blade, when he really should have used the jagged end of the handle like a spear. Spike managed to wrestle the weapon from his opponent, twirled the shovel with unnecessary flair, then staked the vampire with the broken handle.

Buffy noticed from the corner of her eye that Robin was showing signs of tiring. It wouldn't be long before the vampire he fought overcame him. Unfortunately, Buffy was too busy with her own vamp to help him out. Seeing that Spike was free, she called out to him and nodded in the principal's direction. The platinum blonde nodded back and sauntered towards the struggling pair, idly swinging his pilfered shovel back and forth in one hand.

The vampire punched Wood in the face, then flung him into some nearby trashcans. He rolled off of them and landed on the hard ground, the wind knocked out of him. As the vampire loomed over the stunned principal, Spike came up behind it and staked it in the back. As the dust settled, Spike offered his hand. Robin reluctantly accepted it and let the blonde vampire pull him to his feet.

"A little tip, mate," Spike tossed the shovel aside, "Stake's your friend. Don't be afraid to use it." He frowned at the piercing stare Robin focused on him. "What?"

Robin mutely shook his head. He watched Spike turn away and stride over to where Buffy was finishing off the last vamp. He saw Spike say something to her, but couldn't make out the words. Heard her laugh before she staked the vampire and wiped the dust from her clothes. Spike put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Robin's expression remained stoic, but his grip on his stake tightened until the edge of the wood cut into his palm, drawing blood.

"Just waiting for my moment," he murmured.

* * *

Buffy smiled as she made her way down the crowded school hallway towards the faculty office. All the damage and chaos of last week's riot had been swept away. The kids were once again just ordinary, bored, angsty teens trying to get through another day of classes.

She stuck her head into the principal's office. "Situation still normal," she said to Wood in greeting, "Or as normal as this school ever sees. No fires. No one's head's going kablooey. And the swing choir and the marching band have gone back to their normal, healthy, seething resentment."

"Yeah, it's been pretty quiet around here since you shut down that seal," Robin agreed, "You just may have stopped this thing, Buffy."

She very nearly laughed at his naïve optimism. "No, i-it can't be that easy."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "You call that easy?"

"Hey, any apocalypse I avert without dying? Yeah, those are the easy ones."

The principal smiled fondly at her. He shoved his hands into his pockets—the left one bandaged from the night before—and looked down at his shoes, almost shyly. "You know, you're, uh, you're something else, Miss Summers," he spoke with uncharacteristic awkwardness, "I've been watching you when we're out patrolling, and you're, um... You remind me of my, um..."

Buffy's expression softened. "Your mother?"

Wood nodded. "Yeah. What I remember of her, anyway."

"I gotta tell you, not a line every girl likes to hear," she grinned, "But in this case, compliment taken. Maybe you're right. Maybe everything is fine."

"Everything's terrible!" a frantic Giles burst into the office, "Total catastrophe!"

"Giles, what's wrong?" Buffy straightened in alarm. When she'd talked to the Watcher over the phone earlier and asked him to meet her at the high school he'd sounded perfectly calm. What could have happened between then and now?

"Have you seen the new library?" Giles sputtered, "Th-Th-There's nothing but _computers!_ There's not a book to be seen. I—I don't know where to begin, Buffy. I-I mean, who do—who do we speak to?"

Buffy slumped in relief and stifled her laughter. An amused Robin raised his bandaged hand, "Uh, that—that would be me. Hi. I'm Robin Wood."

"Oh! Uh, sorry. Yes, uh, Rupert Giles," he shook the principal's hand, "Uh, B-Buffy tells me that you're something of a freelance demon fighter."

"Yes. Excuse me." Robin hurried to shut his office door. Wouldn't do for someone to overhear the conversation.

"Um, I, um...I'm relieved. We're running dangerously low on allies," Giles confided.

"So, we didn't stop it, then?" Buffy sighed, not at all surprised.

Giles shook his head. "Um, no, the, uh, seers of the coven are certain the First is continuing to gather its forces. I'm afraid war is inevitable." He removed his glasses, gave them a few desultory wipes with his handkerchief, then put them back on. "So, we should go before the school board."

Wood blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Well, I-I can have my backup library sent from home in the meantime. You know, it's not much, but—"

"Giles," Buffy couldn't quite hide the amusement in her voice.

"Knowledge comes from crafted bindings and pages, Buffy, not ones and zeros," the Watcher admonished.

Buffy decided a change in subject was called for. "So, did you bring back any Potentials?"

Giles's expression fell. "Th-There was one girl, but I'm afraid I-I wasn't able to find her in time."

"Oh, god. I'm sorry." Buffy was sorry she asked.

A mournful silence fell over the three of them. Then Giles visibly pulled himself together and forced a smile on his face. "Now, why don't you fill me in on everything that happened while I was away?"

* * *

Spike wasn't normally given to reflection, but lately he'd been thinking a lot about the past. Probably because of Robin Wood's increasing presence. Spike knew damn well his actions had shaped the man's entire life. He'd never really faced the consequences of past misdeeds before. Never stuck around long enough for them to catch up. Now here they were—vampire, Slayer, and Slayer's son—all fighting to save the world as if drawn together by fate. Hell, it probably _was_ fate. Either that or sheer bloody irony.

Nikki Wood. Spike often thought about her in the years since their fatal encounter. He used to look back on their battle with pleasure, but lately he felt something...he wasn't sure what. Not guilt, exactly. Regret, maybe? Not for killing Nikki—even with a soul and a conscience, Spike still didn't feel any remorse for ending the Slayer's life. Either Slayer's life. If not him, it would've been some other vamp or demon who had that one good day. It was the whole nature of the vampire/Slayer dynamic. But he did regret leaving that little boy an orphan. He could sympathize with that, having lost his own mother through tragic circumstances. Maybe that's what he was feeling; sympathy.

He hadn't felt anything about the boy back then. All he'd cared about was bagging his second Slayer. Spike and Drusilla had been in New York with plans to hitch a ride on a cargo ship bound for Europe when Spike started hearing rumors of a Slayer in the city. He couldn't let an opportunity like that slip away. It took him months to find her; New York was a big place, after all. He found out where she lived, the places she patrolled. Watched her in action against various fledgelings and minor demons. She was good. The last Slayer he fought, in China, had been all business. But Nikki had style.

She was no amateur, either. She knew Spike was stalking her. That was why she kept her son by her side at all times; she didn't trust anyone else to protect him. That was why little Robin was there when Spike confronted Nikki for the first time in Central Park. Spike had ignored the child huddling behind a nearby park bench. He wasn't interested in the sprog; all he cared about was Nikki.

The rain was pouring down that night, so much so that it was hard to see. Their waterlogged clothes weighed both combatants down, making the fight that much more challenging. It was the most fun Spike had in a long while.

"Well, all right!" he laughed in delight, "Got the moves, don't ya? I'm gonna ride you hard before I put you away, luv."

The Slayer looked unimpressed. "You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me. And I ain't your 'luv.'"

They were evenly matched. There really was no way to predict who would win, which was just the way Spike liked it. It wasn't any fun if you already knew the outcome. But in the end, he managed to get the upper hand. He grabbed Nikki's wrist as she took a swing at him and twisted her around so her back was pressed to his front, her arm twisted behind her. Spike held her in place with his left arm pinned across her chest and brought his fangs towards her vulnerable neck. It was in that moment that young Robin accidentally knocked over a trashcan, distracting the vampire for one vital second. Nikki reared, the back of her head colliding with Spike's face. She elbows him in the stomach, then flipped him over her shoulder. Spike rolled back onto his feet with catlike reflexes. Nikki threw her stake at his chest. It was luck as much as skill that enabled him to catch the stake mere inches from his heart. He grinned, baring his razor sharp fangs.

"I spent a long time trackin' you down," he declared, "Don't really want the dance to end so soon. Do you, Nikki? The music's just startin', isn't it?" He tossed the stake aside, climbed up onto the ledge of a sheer drop a few paces away. The view of the city from there would have been spectacular had the weather been clearer. "By the way," Spike added just before he jumped, "love the coat."

Two nights later, he and Nikki had their last encounter in the subway, and Spike wore her coat ever since.

"Hey." Buffy waved a hand in front of his eyes, snapping him out of his reverie. He blinked up at her, sitting on the cot in the basement, hiding out from the wannabe Slayers while they stampeded through the house. Buffy sat down beside him, her hand resting on his knee. "You looked like you were a million miles away. What're you thinking about?"

"Nothin' important." He put his arm around her, let her rest her head on his shoulder. She sighed in contentment.

"Tired?" Spike asked.

"Hmm," Buffy muttered in reply, "Seems like I'm always tired these days."

"Chits upstairs are runnin' you ragged."

"Among other things," she agreed, her words starting to slur as she let herself relax.

Spike gently rubbed her back and hummed a quiet tune. After a moment Buffy mumbled, "'S nice. What is it?"

He smiled, reminiscing. "It's called 'Early One Morning.' Old folk ditty," he told her. "It was my mum's favorite. She used to sing it to me," he paused, then added, "When I was a baby."

A smile tugged the corner of her mouth. "I remember that. Only you were _way_ older than a baby when she sang it to you."

Spike chuckled. It always surprised him when Buffy related these snippets from his past. While he knew she had viewed his life during her time in Heaven, he still didn't entirely believe it. It just seemed too strange to be true, having someone know him so well. Better than even Dru had known him.

"When the First had me," Spike hesitated when he felt Buffy tense, "When I felt myself slippin' away, I kept hearing that song, like someone was singing it to me."

Buffy lifted her eyes to gaze up at him. "You were hearing your mom sing it?"

Spike shook his head. "Different voice. Younger. Didn't recognize it." He frowned in thought. "Sometimes it was like it was the only thing keepin' me from fading altogether."

Buffy had an inkling of suspicion at who this mysterious singer was. Before she said anything on the matter, though, the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen drifted down into the basement.

"I'll get it!" Andrew's distant voice shouted. The phone cut off mid-ring. A moment later, Andrew yelled, "Willow! Call for you from LA! Somebody named Fred! The guy sounds kind of effeminate!"

Buffy frowned. If the call was from LA, it probably had something to do with Angel. But why call Willow, if that was the case? It looked like she was going to get her answer as the redhead descended the basement stairs a few minutes later.

"Buffy? Hey, I, uh, just got a phone call. I'm gonna have to take off for a while, maybe a day or two."

Buffy stood and approached her friend, her brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"

Willow held up a forestalling hand. "Nothing you need to worry about. I'll give you the full scoop later," she smiled reassuringly, "Maybe I'll even bring back some good news."

"Could use a little of that," Buffy sighed, "Okay, then I guess now is as good a time as we're likely to see for a while. Just hurry back."

"Will do. Tara should be able to take care of any magical problems you might have 'til I get back." Willow hugged her goodbye, then trotted back up the stairs.

"What d'you suppose that's all about?" Spike wondered.

Buffy shrugged and rejoined him on the cot. "Don't know. Might have something to do with Angel."

"Wouldn't Red have said so?"

Buffy exhaled, "Not if he's in trouble. The kinda trouble only magic can handle."

Spike frowned. He never liked it when Buffy talked about Angel. He especially didn't like it when she was worried about her ex. She had enough concerns; why should the Great Poof monopolize what little spare time she had?

Sensing his resentment, Buffy leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Take it easy. I'm just worried about him as a friend, that's all."

Spike grunted, but his expression relaxed a little.

Buffy checked her watch. "It's getting late. I should get ready for patrol." She gave him a regretful look. "It's not as much fun on my own."

"It was your idea for one of us to stay and watch over the girls," he pointed out, "Unless you wanna change your mind..."

Buffy grimaced, shook her head. "No. I kept worrying all last night when we were both taking care of that nest. Now with Willow gone, the girls'll be more at risk than ever."

"Just have to grin and bear it, then."

Buffy managed a faint smile, leaned over and kissed him again. "I'll see you later."

"Yep." Spike slumped back on the cot as he watched her ascend the basement stairs, wishing he could go with her.

Buffy was surprised when Giles followed her out the front door as she headed out for patrol.

"Buffy, there's something I need to discuss with you in private."

"Um, okay." She frowned, puzzled by the Watcher's furtiveness.

It wasn't until they entered the cemetery that Giles finally broke the silence. "I'm—I'm afraid this is a matter of some delicacy."

"Is this about that thing in LA Willow had to go to?" Buffy asked, her anxiety over Angel's well-being flaring for just a second.

"LA? N-No, i-it's actually about Principal Wood."

She blinked in surprise. "Robin? What about him?"

Agitated, Giles removed his glasses and began obsessively cleaning them. Buffy remembered the time he broke a lens doing that and wondered if it was about to happen again.

"A-Are you aware that Wood's mother was a Slayer?" Giles asked.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy smiled sheepishly, "I probably should've mentioned that. Robin told me."

Giles nodded, still cleaning away at his glasses. "And did he tell you the circumstances of his mother's death?"

Buffy slowly came to a halt, a sense of dread creeping up on her. "He told me she was killed by a vampire."

"Did he tell you who that vampire was?"

She bit her lip, shook her head. "He said he didn't know."

Giles finally tucked his handkerchief away and put his glasses on. "Well, evidently he obtained the knowledge since then."

"Oh, god." Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across them.

Giles looked at her, his face grim. "So, you know it was Spike."

Buffy nodded, eyes still closed. "I told Spike about Robin's mom. He figured it out. But how did Robin find out?"

"I don't know," Giles shuffled his feet, "What I do know is that Wood approached me earlier this evening. He asked me to—to distract you while he lured Spike into a trap. Apparently he believed that, as a Watcher, I would be sympathetic to his...cause."

Buffy frowned at him. "What'd you tell him?"

The Watcher heaved a weary sigh. "I think I managed to convince him to delay his plans for the time being. But, Buffy," his earnest gaze met hers, "Wood is intent on eliminating Spike. Not only for revenge, but because he believes your...attachment to Spike is a liability. He thinks your relationship is clouding your judgment."

"Great," Buffy grumbled, "Yet another guy who thinks he knows what's best for me." She rubbed her hands over her face. "God, as if I didn't have enough on my plate!"

A hand burst out of a fresh grave and clawed at the air. Buffy sighed and drew her stake.

* * *

Spike finished off his dinner and rinsed out the mug before setting it aside with the other dishes waiting to be washed. His ears picked up the sound of someone knocking at the front door. Curious, he went to answer and his eyes narrowed on discovering Robin waiting on the front step.

"I need to talk to Buffy," the demon hunter stated without preamble.

"Do you, now?" Spike leaned against the doorjamb, "'Fraid she's out patrolling, but I'll let her know you stopped by."

Wood reached out and placed his hand against the door before Spike could shut it in his face. "This is urgent. I ran into a demon a little while ago and I need her help to take it out."

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. "What kind of demon?"

Robin shrugged, "'Bout seven feet tall, gray skin, big horns and hooves. Y'know, classic demonic look."

"Hmph," Spike grunted, "Might be a Fyarl. They're tough buggers."

"I can't take it on alone," Robin said.

"I'll say you can't. Hang on." Spike turned away and headed into the living room. Wood followed the peroxided vampire into the house, shutting the door behind him. He saw Spike pick something up from the end table with a frown. "She's always forgettin' her cellphone," Spike grumbled.

"I don't have time to track her down," Wood declared, an edginess to his voice, "That demon could kill a dozen people out for some late-night clubbing before I find her."

Spike pursed his lips, debating with himself. He had told Buffy that he would stay and watch over the Potentials, but there was a dangerous demon out there, and even if he called her home through their link, it would still take longer than if he went with Robin himself to take care of the problem. Spike finally nodded to himself. "I'll go with you. Just gimme a minute to let Tara know."

Robin nodded and waited stoically by the door. Spike returned a moment later, putting on his duster. Robin's mouth twitched slightly at the sight of the coat.

"Don't suppose you got a silver knife handy?" the vampire asked, "Only way to kill a Fyarl's to stab it through the heart with a silver blade." Unfortunately, Buffy didn't have one.

Wood nodded. "Got a silver dagger back at my place. We can swing by and pick it up."

The two of them rode together in Robin's car, the silence between them full of tension. Robin pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. "Come on."

Spike cocked his head as the principal led him to a rough wooden building. "You live in a garage?"

"It's just a workroom," Robin answered, using a key on the padlock holding the door closed, "Kind of my, uh, sanctuary."

"A little place to unwind, eh?" Spike followed him into the dark interior, "A hard day's principaling got you down, you need a place to cut loose, let your hair down. So to speak."

He heard the door click shut behind him, then a light switched on. Spike's eyes widened at what it revealed; the walls were lined with dozens of crosses. Most were simple planks of wood nailed together, while others were more ornate. They covered every surface of the walls, including the windows. Spike looked over his shoulder and saw they were even on the inside of the garage door. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"I told you. It's my sanctuary." Wood smirked at the vampire's dismay. "It's the Hellmouth, Spike. You can never be too careful. Just, um, stay away from the walls, you'll be alright." He walked over to a desk and pulled open a drawer, presumably to get the silver knife. His broad back obscured Spike's view.

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" Spike frowned in suspicion. "What's your story, Wood?"

"No story, really. Just tryin' to do what's right, make a difference." Robin shed his outer shirt, leaving him in a tank top that bared his muscular arms and powerful shoulders. "How 'bout you? What kind of man are you, Spike?"

"Sorry. Not much for self-reflection," the vampire replied, eyeing the man warily.

"Yeah. Makes sense," Wood muttered sardonically. His muscles bunched and twitched as he fidgeted with something out of Spike's view. "See, you strike me as the kind of guy who just careens through life," he mused aloud, "completely oblivious of the damage he's doing to everyone around him."

"Is that right?" Spike tensed.

"Oh, I know more about you than you think, Spike. See, I've been searching for you for...a very, very long time," Robin turned his head, eyes locking with Spike's over his shoulder, "Ever since you killed my mother."

_Oh, balls,_ Spike groaned inwardly. But he continued to feign ignorance for the moment, "Killed a lot of people's mothers."

Robin snorted, "Yeah. You'd remember mine. She was a Slayer."

_Just walked right into the wanker's trap, didn't you? Stupid git_, Spike berated himself. "So, that's it, innit? You brought me here to kill me."

Wood finally turned to face him. On his left hand he wore a fingerless glove with studded metal all along the back and knuckles. On his right arm he had on a brace with a spiked metal elbow and built-in brass knuckles. "No. I don't want to kill _you_, Spike," he stated calmly, "I wanna kill the monster who took my mother away from me."

Without warning, his hand lashed out. Spike saw an open bottle gripped in Wood's hand, saw the liquid inside arc out and splash across the vampire's chest. Spike roared in pain as the holy water seared him, morphing into his vamp-face on reflex.

"There he is," Robin declared with quiet satisfaction.

* * *

Buffy gasped and stumbled, almost giving the fledgeling the opening it needed to bite her. She quickly recovered and staked the vamp, then abruptly spun and ran off before the dust even had time to settle.

"Buffy?" Giles called after her.

"It's Spike!" she shouted back. She didn't even pause to give the Watcher a chance to catch up. There was no time. Heart pounding in fear, Buffy raced towards her lover, praying she would get to him before whatever danger he'd come across overcame him.

* * *

Robin's metal-clad fist slammed into the vampire's face. Spike snarled.

"That's right, dog! Fight back!" Robin dodged Spike's swinging fist and backhanded him, sending the vampire staggering back a step. He pressed his braced right arm across Spike's throat and shoved him into the nearest wall. He punched the vampire in the stomach, eliciting another roar, then forced Spike's head to turn until his cheek pressed against one of the many crosses on the wall. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then there was a sizzle and smoke began to rise from the vampire's burning flesh.

Spike knocked Wood's arms away and shoved him back. He lunged after the man, but a sudden kick sent him flying into a bookshelf. The shelf splintered from the impact and Spike found himself sprawled on the floor, books and broken bits of shelving raining down on him.

"Hurts, don't it?" Robin loomed over the dazed vampire. He bent down and grabbed the collar of Spike's shirt. "This what it felt like?" his fist smashed into the vampire's jaw, "When you beat the life out of her?" Another punch. "Toyed with her?" Yet another hit. "When you snapped her neck!" he screamed into the peroxide blonde's face, striking him again and again.

Spike felt as if his brain was rattling in his skull. Part of him knew he should fight back, that he would die if he didn't move. But another part of him couldn't help but think that maybe he deserved it. He'd murdered Wood's mother, after all, for nothing more than a thrill.

He suddenly found himself thinking about his own mother. What he did to her. He'd only wanted to save her, but instead he'd damned her. Brought forth a monster that tore into him with hateful words. Every resentment, every angry thought against him, no longer balanced by the love she'd felt. Things she never would have said to him in life. So much venom and disgust in her eyes.

"An animal like you," Robin panted, "never cared for anyone but yourself." He removed the glove and arm braced, tossed them onto the desk. "No one else mattered. Just...all about the hunt." He roughly pulled the duster off Spike, the vampire too stunned to react. Wood folded the coat and set it aside, then reached over and yanked one of the crosses off the wall. This one had been sharpened at one end so it could double as a stake. He carried the weapon over to the beaten vampire, raised it in anticipation of plunging it into the creature's heart.

Spike remembered staking his mother. It was one of the most painful memories he carried. But in that bare instant before she dusted, her vampiric features had melted away and she'd looked at him with the barest hint of a smile. Just for that one second, she'd been his mother again. "I'm sorry."

Robin froze. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Spike repeated, his eyes unfocused.

Robin's face twisted in rage and he drove the stake towards the vampire's chest. Spike's hand reached up, lightning-quick, and grabbed the man's wrist, halting it mid-swing. Then he kicked out, sending Robin careening across he room, dropping the cross in the process. Robin glared at him as he rose gracefully to his feet.

"Sorry?" Wood snarled, incredulous, "You think sorry's gonna make everything right?"

"I wasn't talking to you," Spike retorted. He dodged Wood's flying kick, grabbed his fist as it swung at him and punched the man in the gut, then jabbed him in the face. "I don't give a piss about your mum," the vampire stated bluntly, "She was a Slayer. I was a vampire. That's the way the game is played."

"Game?" Robin spat. He lunged, but Spike easily evaded him and got in a couple more brutal hits. While Robin was reeling from those, Spike grabbed the overhead lighting fixture and used it to swing towards him, kicking him in the chest with both feet.

Spike let himself drop back down to the floor. "She knew what she was siginin' up for."

"Well, I didn't sign up for it!" Wood cried, scrambling back to his feet.

"Well, that's the rub, isn't it?" Spike replied sardonically, "You didn't sign up for it, and somehow it's my fault."

"You took my childhood," Robin snarled, futilely trying to attack with wildly swinging fists, "You took her away!" Spike's hand struck him in the chest, sending him stumbling back. Robin glared in hatred. "She was all I had. She was my world!"

"And you weren't hers," Spike stated coolly, "Doesn't that piss you off?"

"Shut up. You didn't know her!" He spun and kicked, but Spike knocked him down. He tried to kick out from the floor and Spike caught him by the ankle.

"I know Slayers." Spike swung Robin's body up by the leg and slammed him into the wall. Robin collapsed to the floor, too battered and exhausted to fight anymore.

"No matter how many people they've got around 'em, they fight alone," the vampire scoffed, "Life of the Chosen One. The rest of us be damned. Your mother was no different."

"No," Wood rasped, one hand clutching his aching ribs, "Sh—She loved me."

"But not enough to quit, though, was it? Not enough to walk away. For you." Spike knelt down in front of the beaten man, their gazes now level. "I'll tell you a story, about a mother and son. See, like you, I loved my mother. So much so, I turned her into a vampire. So we could be together, forever." His mouth twisted in irony. "She said some nasty bits to me after I did that. Been weighin' on me for quite some time. But you helped me figure somethin' out. You see, unlike you, I had a mother who loved me back. When I sired her, I set loose a demon, and it tore into me. But it was the demon talking, not her. I realize that, now." Spike smiled. "My mother loved me, with all her heart. I was her world." He stood, loomed over Wood, his voice calm, almost conversational, "I just wanted you to know that...before I kill you."

Spike shifted into his gameface, grabbed the man off the floor and sank his fangs into Robin's throat.

* * *

Buffy didn't slow her inhuman pace even when she sensed through the link that the danger to Spike was past. Her terror wouldn't fade until she saw with her own eyes that he was okay.

She saw him up ahead, stepping out of a garage, coat in hand. No sooner did he put the duster on than Buffy slammed into him, the impact nearly bowling them both over. Spike put his arms around her trembling body and whispered reassurances into her hair. "I'm alright, luv. It's okay."

It took a few minutes for Buffy to quit shaking. The fear and adrenaline had taken a toll. When she was finally calm enough, she pulled back to look at him. Her hand reached up to gently touch the edges of the burn on Spike's cheek. "What happened?"

Reluctantly, Spike drew away and reached over to push the garage door open. Buffy's eyes widened at the sight of Robin Wood's slumped form. The man slowly raised his head and looked at her through his left eye, his other eye swollen shut.

"I gave him a pass," Spike told her, "Let him live, on account of the fact I killed his mother. But that's all he gets. He even so much as looks at me funny again, I'll kill him."

Buffy looked at him, nodded. "Go on home. I need to say a few things to Wood."

Spike turned away without another word and headed off for Revello Drive. Buffy entered the garage and helped Robin get to his feet. Only then did she notice the crosses all over the walls. Appalled, she looked at Robin. "How long have you been planning this?"

Wood didn't answer, but his grim expression said enough.

Buffy's mouth compressed to a thin line. "How did you find out?"

Robin's gaze turned aside. "Someone told me."

"Who?"

He didn't answer. Buffy let out a humorless laugh. "It was the First, wasn't it?"

"You saying it lied?" Wood challenged.

"I'm saying you played right into its hand!" Buffy snapped, "Spike is the strongest warrior we have. And we are gonna need him if we're gonna come out of this thing alive. But all you can fixate on is getting revenge on a man who doesn't exist anymore."

"Buffy, don't delude yourself," Robin argued, "That man still exists."

She made an impatient gesture. "I have a mission to win this war. To save this world. I don't have time for vendettas. The mission is what matters. If you can't remember that, then you have no business getting involved." She glared at him, letting her rage show. "If you try anything again, he'll kill you," she told him in a low, dangerous voice, "More importantly, if he doesn't...I will."

Robin stared at her, saw that it was not an empty threat. His heart sank at this realization.

Buffy turned her back on him and walked away, leaving him to tend to his own wounds.

The house was quiet when she got back. Everyone was asleep. Well, nearly everyone. Buffy ran into Giles in the hall on her way to her room. She let out a guilty sigh; she'd forgotten all about him.

The Watcher's face was etched with concern as he asked, "Is Spike alright?"

"He's okay," Buffy told him, "Wood failed. Spike let him live."

Giles nodded, relieved. "I-I'm sorry, Buffy. I honestly didn't believe he would make his move this soon."

"It's not your fault." Buffy chewed her lip. "Wood said it was the First who told him Spike killed his mother."

Giles's expression turned grim. "The First is trying to turn us against each other."

"Well, in Wood's case, it succeeded," she heaved a weary sigh.

Giles gently gripped her shoulder. "Get some rest, Buffy. We'll figure out what to do about Wood in the morning."

Buffy nodded and made her way to the bedroom. She paused near the bathroom, heard the shower running. She checked the link, then entered the bathroom instead. Spike's form was only a faint silhouette behind the shower curtain. Steam clouded the room, fogging up the mirror over the sink. Buffy wordlessly shed her clothes, undid her braided hair, then slipped into the shower, hardly stirring the curtain.

Spike stood with his back to her, head tilted back as the hot water cascaded over his aching body. Buffy slid her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. After a moment, Spike turned, eyes still closed, and found her lips with his. And so, for a while, they found comfort and reassurance in each other.


	19. Chapter 19: Dirty Girls

**A/N:** I'm a big fan of Nathan Fillion, and I was tickled to see him play the baddie in this show. He's so deliciously evil as Caleb.

Enjoy the chapter, and Happy Mother's Day! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_Dirty Little Secret_

_Dirty Little Lies_

_Say your prayers and comb your hair_

_Save your soul tonight_

_Drift among the faithful_

_Bury your desires_

_Aberrations fill your head_

_You need a place to hide_

_And I am_

-Apocalyptica (feat. Corey Taylor), "I'm Not Jesus"

The house was bursting at the seams. It was bad enough when all the girls were up and about, but at night, there just wasn't enough space anymore. So, after much internal debate, Buffy decided they would have to let some of the Potentials sleep under someone else's roof. Since Xander still had his apartment, he was the only real choice. Most of the girls who spent the night at his place were the more experienced fighters. That way, if there was any trouble, they stood a better chance at holding their own until help arrived.

"I can't believe we're finally gonna have our room all to ourselves!" Buffy flopped back onto the bed, arms splayed, feet dangling over the side.

Spike grinned and leaned over her, supporting his weight on his arms to either side of her. "Whatever shall we do with all this privacy?" he purred.

Buffy laughed and threaded her fingers through his white-blonde hair. "I can think of a few things..."

Before their lips had a chance to meet, the distant sound of the phone's ring reached their ears. Spike cursed and rolled aside, lying on his back. "Bugger," he growled at the ceiling.

Buffy heaved a sigh. "Well, we're gonna have to go patrol, anyway," she muttered as she reluctantly got out of bed. Spike stood as well, grumbling as he followed her out of the room. The phone stopped mid-ring as they came down the stairs. A moment later, Dawn came into view with the cordless receiver in hand. "It's Willow," she said, offering the phone.

Buffy took it with a nod of thanks and brought it to her ear. "Hey, Wil. Run into some trouble on the way back?"

_"Sort of,"_ Willow replied, _"I-I almost ran over a girl lying in the middle of the road. Somebody stabbed her."_

Buffy tensed, "A Potential?"

_"Could be. I, uh, can't really tell for sure. The girl's unconscious. Me and Faith got her to the hospital. She's in surgery right now."_

"So, Faith's with you." Buffy frowned at the mention of the other Slayer. Willow had called from LA earlier in the day to give her a highly abbreviated version of what went down there, so she knew about the attempt on Faith's life and her escape from prison. Buffy also knew that Faith had helped Angel with something, though she didn't really know what. Truthfully, Buffy wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her feelings about Angel's friendship with the fallen Slayer were...complicated.

_"Yeah,"_ Willow sounded uncertain, _"Th-That's good, though, right? I mean, another Slayer on our side."_

"Yeah. The more the merrier." Buffy suddenly wanted to bring this conversation to a close. "Listen, I've gotta go patrol. Call if there's any change with the girl, okay?"

_"Okay. Um, i-is Tara there?"_

Buffy winced; of course Wil would wanna talk to her girlfriend! "Hang on a sec."

She found Tara in the dining area with Giles and Dawn, poring over old texts for some kind of research. Buffy handed the phone over, then headed for the door without another word. Spike was already waiting for her, a stake in each hand. He passed one to her, pocketed the other, and the two of them headed out.

* * *

The Hellmouth seemed to be affecting the local demon population as much as the humans. While there weren't as many fledgelings as there used to be, the few that did rise were especially aggressive, making it necessary for both Buffy and Spike to patrol. Buffy had damn near gotten her arm torn off the last time she tried to go it alone. There was no convincing Spike to stay at home and "babysit" this time.

Little more than an hour later, Spike was chasing down a young female vamp while Buffy was occupied with a male fledgeling a ways back. The female vampire had given him quite a fight until she realized she was outmatched by the much older vamp. Now she was playing up the whole blonde waifish victim running in terror from the Big Bad. She wasn't even wearing her gameface. Spike rather enjoyed the chase. Kinda brought him back to his old hunting days, back when he still ate people.

The vampire girl stumbled to a halt, looking frantically around for her pursuer. Spike leapt out from concealment and laid her out with a solid punch to the jaw. Sneering in triumph, Spike loomed over the unconscious form, preparing to get out his stake, when something grabbed him from behind and sent him flying into a nearby memorial. He stumbled to his feet, shaking his addled head and snarling. But instead of another vampire, he found himself confronting a young woman with flowing dark hair, wearing leather pants and a denim jacket.

"What you wanna do to her, vamp? Huh? Something like this?" The woman backhanded him, then got him with a right hook, knocking him to the ground.

Spike jumped to his feet again, relaxing his face back into its human features. "Nice punch you got there," he smirked, rubbing his sore jaw. "Let me guess," he eyed her as the two of them circled each other, "Leather pants, nice right cross, doe eyes, holier-than-thou glower...you must be Faith."

"Oh, goody. I'm famous," the Slayer drawled.

"I was told you were comin'," he started to explain, "Bit of a misunderstanding here. I'm—"

"Spike. We've met before."

"We have? I don't think we—" he was cut off by a sudden kick to the midsection. "Ow! Bloody hell, what're you doing? I'm on your side."

Faith cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Maybe you haven't heard, I've reformed."

She swung at him. Spike blocked it and punched her. "So have I," he countered, "I reformed way before you did."

Faith kicked him again.

"Stop..."

A hard jab clipped his jaw.

"Hitting..."

Spike's left fist sent her reeling back. "...Me! We're on the same side!"

Faith scoffed, "Please. D'you think I'm stupid?"

He couldn't resist that opening. "Well, yeah."

"You were attacking that girl." Faith decked him, then an unexpected fist from her right connected with her face.

"Sorry, Faith," Buffy apologized with zero sincerity, "I didn't realize that was you."

Faith rubbed her jaw. "It's alright, B. Luckily, you still punch like you used to."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, then turned to Spike with a more concerned expression. "You okay?"

The vampire let out a rueful snort, "Yeah. Terrific."

Faith watched their interaction with an incredulous stare. "You're protecting vampires? Are you the bad Slayer now?" she frowned, "Am I the _good_ Slayer now?"

"He's with me," Buffy stated matter-of-factly, "He has a soul."

Faith's eyebrows rose. "Oh, he's like Angel?"

"No," Spike growled the same time Buffy replied, "Sort of." He glared at her. "I'm nothing like Angel!"

"He fights on my side," Buffy threw a pointed look at Faith, "which is more than I can say for some of us."

"Yeah?" Faith sneered, "Well, if he's so good, what's he doing chasing down defenseless—" The now-conscious vampire girl abruptly tackled the second Slayer.

"That's one of the bad guys," Buffy stated unnecessarily.

Faith glared at the creature's distinctive vamp-face. "You should make 'em wear signs." She threw herself into the fight, part of her rejoicing at returning to her roots. "May I?" she snatched the stake from Buffy's holster, "Thanks."

A moment later, the vampire was dust.

"Angel's dull as a table lamp," a petulant Spike continued as if they hadn't been interrupted, "And we have very different coloring."

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

"Okay, catching up," Faith lowered the stake, "Anything else I gotta know?"

Buffy scrutinized the other Slayer for a moment, then smiled thinly and declared, "Nice to have you back."

* * *

"Whoa. Memory lane," Faith's gaze wandered over the the familiar interior, "Same old house."

Buffy's mouth quirked in a rueful grimace. "Yeah, well, every piece of furniture has been destroyed and replaced since you left, so, actually, new house."

"Buffy?" Dawn stepped out from the dining room, arms crossed, a hard glare fixed on the new arrival. Behind her, Giles and Tara came into view as well.

"We have a new house guest," Buffy announced. Spike squeezed by her and went to observe the impending awkwardness by the stairs, leaning against the bannister.

"Hey," Faith grinned, "Got a spare bed for a wanted fugitive?"

"Hello, Faith," Giles greeted her coolly. Dawn wouldn't even show her that much courtesy. Tara just gazed at her in tentative curiosity.

"Huh. Guess 'wanted' wasn't really accurate," Faith muttered.

Dawn turned to address Buffy, "Does she have to stay here? 'Cause there's some nice hotels that welcome try-to-kill-your-sister types."

Faith seemed amused by the teen's chilly reception. "Check it out. Brat's all woman-size."

Later, Buffy would muse over the fact that Faith remembered Dawn at all, considering the teen didn't even exist the last time Faith was in Sunnydale. Apparently, the monks' spell had been very thorough.

"Look," Buffy fought the urge to sigh in frustration, "I know none of us is thrilled, but we gotta make the best of this situation. Faith's too valuable a warrior to turn away."

Dawn's mouth thinned to an angry line, but she didn't argue any further. She spun on her heel and disappeared into the next room. Tara and Giles shared a look, then the witch stepped forward and offered a hesitant smile to Faith. "Well, Faith. W-We better, um, see if we can find someplace to squeeze you in for the night."

Faith shrugged and sauntered after the other woman in search of a spare sleeping bag.

"Well," Giles sighed, "This should be interesting."

* * *

Buffy and Faith managed to avoid each other the next morning. As soon as she choked down a piece of dry toast for breakfast, Buffy all but ran out the door to get to work. Of course, once she got to the high school, she realized she had another tense confrontation in store. Knowing this could not be put off, she headed straight for the principal's office.

Wood looked like the victim of a horrific mugging. Bruises and scrapes marred his face, a couple of butterfly bandages held a deep gash over his right eye closed. His movements were stiff and cautious, even though he was doing nothing more strenuous than filling out paperwork.

Buffy leaned against the doorjamb and tried to sound casual, "You look better."

Without looking up, Wood replied, "No, I don't."

"No, you don't," Buffy agreed, dropping the pretense.

He finally turned to look at her, a tentative smile on his battered face. "But I'll be okay. Unless, of course, _you_ start beating up on me now."

"I won't. Well, I thought about it," she said, only half-joking, "I made some doodles. But I've given it some more thought and, as far as I'm concerned, we're on even ground. I meant what I said, though. I don't have time for your vendetta. But I need you in this fight. I want you on my side."

"Thanks," Wood responded with quiet sincerity, "That means a lot."

Buffy knew better than to expect a full apology from him. But as long as he was willing to put aside his need for revenge, that was good enough for her.

"So...we're good?"

"Absolutely." Wood turned his attention back to his paperwork. "You're fired."

_"What?"_ Buffy exclaimed.

"Effective immediately."

Buffy gawked at him. "You're firing me? Wha—I just refrained from kicking your ass!"

"Buffy, there's nothing here for you," Wood reasoned, "I mean, people are leaving town. Half the kids don't even bother showing up anymore. You've got things to deal with that are much worse than anything here. Look at the big picture."

Buffy sat herself down in one of the chairs across from him, her expression grim. "Right. The big picture. The one with the big war and all the dead little girls."

Wood shook his head. "Not dead. Not if you get them ready."

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. "I don't want to lead them into war. It can't be the right thing."

"Most wars aren't, y'know," the principal stated gently.

"Some of these girls haven't even been tested in battle."

Wood nodded, thoughtful. "Then, I guess, maybe you should test them."

Buffy knew he was right. She just wished the responsibility didn't have to rest on her shoulders.

* * *

Spike didn't think it was possible, but the chits were even more hyper than usual. Maybe it was the novelty of having a second Slayer around. Or maybe it was all that iced coffee some genius decided to give them. Spike just wished they'd saved the enthusiasm for nightfall, when he could've made his escape to Willy's or The Bronze. Instead, he had to settle for the relative solitude of the gray, dismal basement.

He was just dozing off on the cot—which smelled suspiciously of Xander and Anya—when the basement door opened, briefly letting in the noisy chatter upstairs. Then came the thud of heavy boots on the steps. Spike cracked open an eye, saw a weary Faith sitting at the foot of the stairs lighting up a cigarette.

"You craving a moment alone in the dank? Or can I bum one?"

Faith jumped slightly, obviously not expecting anyone else to be using her hiding place. She smirked at the sight of Spike lounging in the cot, shirtless and completely unselfconscious about it.

"Well, I guess you can smoke all you want," she remarked, walking over to hand him the cigarette, "Big C not really an issue."

Spike took a long drag, then blew out a plume of smoke. "Teeth get yellow after an eternity. Gotta watch that."

Faith hopped up onto a small work table and lit another cigarette for herself. An amused glint came to her eyes as she noticed the chains on the wall. "Huh."

Spike smirked, "Right. It's not what it looks like."

Faith held up her hands. "Hey, to each his own, man."

The vampire's expression sobered a little. "I got dangerous for a while."

Faith's head tilted in curiosity. "Was this before the soul, or after?"

"After," Spike smiled, "But I got over it. In case you're feeling all dust-happy again after your long incarceration."

"Well, not if you're all repenty," she teased, "Takes the fun out of it."

There was a noticeable swell in the noise upstairs.

Faith groaned, "No more Starbucks for the wannabes, man. They've been spazzing for, like, hours."

"Yeah. It does get a bit much up there," Spike agreed.

"They're good girls. Just green, is all."

"So, why aren't you up there imparting?" he asked.

The Slayer grimaced, "That's Buffy's thing. Anyway, I just spent a good stretch of time locked away with a mess of female types. Kinda had my fill."

"But you waited until Angel needed your help to bust out of jail," Spike pointed out, "You had the power to walk away anytime. Nothing to stop you."

"I stopped me," Faith retorted, all seriousness "I got dangerous for a while."

Spike took another drag off his cigarette. "You over it?"

"More or less," Faith grinned and shrugged off her jacket, her movements lithe and unconsciously sensual. "I pull for the good guys, now."

"What's the less?" Spike queried.

Faith shrugged, "The usual stuff."

"Such as?"

A sensual grin worked its way across her face. "I was thinking of looking up this guy I know, likes to make me dress up as a schoolgirl and uses this bullwhip." She winked. "_Long_ incarceration."

Spike chuckled, "You could do better. Schoolgirl thing's old hat."

"It's all old hat, man. Every guy's got some wack fantasy. Scratch the surface of any granola-type dude, it's naughty nurses and horny cheerleaders."

Spike's smile turned almost wistful, thinking of the cheerleader uniform gathering dust in his and Buffy's closet. The way things were going, Buffy wouldn't be putting it on for him again anytime soon.

Faith continued, oblivious to his train of thought, "I figure, if you can't beat 'em—"

"Join 'em."

"Just don't forget who's on top," she concluded.

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow. "That, I suspect, would be you."

"You got that right." Full lips stretched in a flirtatious grin, Faith rose from the table, sauntered over to the cot, and sat down beside the vampire, their shoulders brushing. "I've met you before, you know."

"Yeah, you made a great impression on my chin," Spike muttered.

"Not in the graveyard. Before that. I was kinda wearing a different body," Faith explained, running her hands down her sides for emphasis, "You seemed okay with it."

Spike exhaled in amusement and shook his head. "The body swap. With Buffy."

"She fill you in on that whole deal?" Faith was surprised; how close were these two?

"She told me it went down," Spike casually replied, "Failed to mention who was driving her skin around."

Faith coyly lowered her eyes. "I may have said a few things."

Spike remembered all too well what those "things" were. They were part of what started him on the road to his obsessive crush on Buffy, and had fueled more than a few of his fantasies. "Like you could ride me at a gallop 'til my knees buckled," he recited, "Squeeze me 'til I pop like warm champagne. Not the kind of thing a man forgets."

"Should've known it wasn't Blondie behind the wheel," Faith chided, "She'd never throw down like that."

Spike's grin widened. "Oh, you _have_ been away."

Faith laughed in surprise, "Don't even tell me Little Miss Tightly Wound's been getting her naughty on?" She nudged his arm playfully.

"Not of late," Spike lamented. What with the war and all those Slayer wannabes scampering around, didn't leave much time or privacy for anything except the occasional quick fumble.

"She the one who gave you the love bite?" Faith's hand reached towards the Claim mark on his neck. Spike jerked away, repelled by the thought of anyone but Buffy touching it.

"Yeah, uh, it's sort of private."

"Wow," Faith shook her head in amazement, "Everybody's just full of surprises."

The sound of the basement door opening again heralded another arrival. A moment later, Buffy descended the stairs and took in the sight of Faith sitting cozily with her shirtless boyfriend.

"Hey, B," Faith waved. Spike winced and rubbed the back of his head, all too aware of how this intimate scene looked. Plus, he could feel Buffy's smoldering jealousy. Part of him was rather thrilled, but mostly he wondered just how deep in trouble he was.

"Well, it's nice to see you two getting along so well," Buffy observed with false cheeriness.

Even Faith picked up on the tension and decided it might be best to get up and put some distance between her and Spike. "Yeah, uh, you just know all the cool vampires," she said, walking back to the table to retrieve her jacket.

"Yeah." Buffy's tone matched her icy gaze.

Spike hastily tried to change the subject, "Hey, aren't you usually at work about now?"

"I kinda decided to cut back on my hours," Buffy said, her hard stare fixed on the other Slayer, "Figured I'd be better off focusing on what's going on around here."

Spike was slightly relieved to realize that the majority of Buffy's ire was focused on Faith rather than him. It was weird, though; Buffy's feelings towards Faith were eerily similar to his feelings towards Angel. Seeing this kind of thing from an outside perspective, it seemed awfully petty.

"Buffy, is that you?" Tara's voice called down.

Buffy turned her head towards the stairs. "I'm down here!"

"Willow just called from the hospital," Tara informed her, "The girl's awake."

That effectively put an end to the moment of tension. Buffy strode over to where Spike still lounged on the cot and made it a point to give him a long, deep kiss before turning away and heading for the steps. The look she cast Faith's way in passing was unmistakeable. _He's mine_, she silently asserted.

Faith and Spike shared an awkward look once she was gone.

* * *

The girl's name was Shannon, and she was indeed a Potential. She had been running from a group of Bringers through the woods outside of town when she came upon the road and saw a pickup approaching. The driver had stopped at her frantic waving, and Shannon jumped into the truck, thinking once they drove off that the danger was past.

"He was a minister or something. At least he dressed like one. I thought he was trying to save me, at first."

But the truth was much worse. "He said...the Bringers were his boys. Right before he burned me," Shannon peeled back the gauze patch on the side of her neck, revealing a circular burn on her flesh with some kind of cross at its center. It looked painful. Willow got out her camera and snapped a couple of pictures for future research. Shannon continued, "He wanted me to tell you something. Before he...cut me...he told me to give the Slayer a message."

Buffy leaned closer. "What is it?"

"He said...'I have something of yours.'"

As soon as she and Willow returned to the house, Buffy called a meeting of all the Potentials and Scoobies. They crowded into the living room, eyes riveted on the Slayer.

"We've got a new player in town," Buffy announced, "Dresses like a preacher. Calls himself Caleb. Looks like he's working for the First. He's taunting us, calling us out. He says he's got something of mine. Could be another girl. Could be something else. Don't know. Don't care." Buffy's expression hardened. "I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of training. He's got something of mine? Fine. I'm getting it back. And you guys are coming with me."

There were more than a few doubts over this impulsive plan. Buffy and the Scoobies, Faith, and Spike, all went into another room to discuss strategy—and voice their misgivings.

"We don't even know where we're going," Willow protested.

"That's why we need to do a little recon first," Buffy looked towards Faith, "You up for it?"

The other Slayer nodded, "Point me where you want me."

"And you're certain this is the best course of action?" a worried Giles asked, "Y-You don't even know what this man has of yours. If he, in fact, has anything."

"It could be a girl," Buffy said, "A Potential trying to get to us."

"It could be a stapler," the Watcher countered.

Buffy pursed her lips, "I'm going in anyway."

"Buffy," Giles tried to reason, "most of the girls have yet to be in the field, let alone in a life-or-death situation."

"Then it's time we test them. I'll just take the ones that have been here the longest," she compromised, "The rest can stay behind."

"Could be that's just what he wants you to do," Spike pointed out, "The old bait and switch."

Willow nodded, "Yeah, he lures us away and then kills the girls we leave behind."

"I know. That's why I need you and Tara to stay here with them." At their startled looks, Buffy explained, "You two are my most powerful weapons. I know you can both keep them safe if anything happens."

"An unknown man breezes into town, says he has something of yours," Xander fidgeted, "Buffy, this thing's got 'trap' written all over it."

But Buffy would not be talked out of it. "He won't be expecting a full attack. Not this soon. That's why we have to move."

"We know nothing about this man," Giles argued, "We cannot go into battle unprepared. We have to have more time."

"Giles, we don't have time. And you're not going into battle."

Giles looked hurt by this, until Buffy explained, "You're the last Watcher. The knowledge you have's too valuable to risk losing in this fight. If anything happens to me, you're the best person to keep training the Potentials."

Giles mulled over her words, then sighed and nodded. On that logic, at least, he could agree.

"Faith and I are gonna do recon," Buffy stated, "The rest of you, start prepping the girls." With that, the two Slayers left the house to begin their search.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find what they were looking for. Up ahead, a hooded figure walked with purpose into the woods. The Slayers followed at a distance, careful not to be overheard.

"No eyes, but look at him go," Faith marveled, "They got sonar or something?"

"Or something, I guess," Buffy replied, "Pretty good when they attack."

"They just roam free around town?"

Buffy shrugged, "Well, normally, they show up out of nowhere and then either stab or get stabbed, and then they run off."

"Looks like this guy wants to be found," Faith looked concerned, "Adds weight to the whole 'it's a trap' theory."

Buffy didn't even try to hide her frustration when she retorted, "I am through waiting around for people to attack us."

"Hey, I'm with you," Faith shrugged, "Drop me in the hornets nest. What the hell."

They walked in silence for a while, then Buffy finally voiced the question she'd been holding back since encountering Faith in the cemetery, "Why'd you come back?"

Faith frowned at her, "Willow said you needed me. Didn't give it a lot of thought. Do you— Am I getting you want me to be not here?"

"No," Buffy was quick to deny, much to their mutual surprise, "That's not what I meant. I'm glad that you're here. It's...good. Thank you."

"No problem. You know me, all about the good deeds." Faith smirked.

"Willow said you helped out Angel."

The other Slayer nodded.

Buffy hesitated, then finally asked, "How is he?"

"Better," Faith answered vaguely, "I had to do this whole magical mind-walk with him."

Buffy frowned, "You were in Angel's mind?"

Before they could delve any farther into Faith's metaphysical adventure, they came upon the Bringer's destination.

"What is this place?" Faith wondered. It was an old building in the middle of nowhere. It had kind of a monastic appearance.

"Look," Buffy pointed, "There's more of them."

Dozens of hooded figures came and went like busy ants.

"I think we just found our hornets nest," Faith remarked.

Buffy nodded, "Let's get the cavalry."

When they returned to the house, they heard an argument in progress in the living room. Apparently, some of the Potentials decided to voice their doubts over the whole plan.

"Buffy doesn't care how many of us she puts in danger," Rona declared.

Buffy was about to walk in there with a rebuttal when she heard Xander—the ever faithful heart of the Scoobies—speak up in her defense.

"Let me tell you something about Buffy. I've been through more battles with her than you all can ever imagine. She's stopped everything that's ever come up against her. She's laid down her life, _literally_, to protect the people around her. This girl has died two times, and she's still standing. You're scared? That's smart. You got questions? You should. But you doubt her motives, you think Buffy is all about the kill, then you take the little bus to battle. I've seen her heart, and this time _not_ literally, and I'm telling you right now, she cares more about your lives than you will ever know. You gotta trust her. She's earned it."

Buffy smiled, touched by her friend's speech. Then Faith spoke up, letting everyone know the Slayers were back, "Damn, I never knew you were that cool."

"Well, you always were a little slow," Buffy quipped, a rare show of camaraderie between her and Faith.

"Alright," Buffy addressed the assembled fighters, "let's saddle up."

* * *

It was decided that Faith, Xander, and some of the girls would wait outside as a backup force, in case things got hairy. The rest followed Buffy into the darkened building.

Spike could smell the fear rising off the girls. It put him on edge more than the venue did. As far as creepy abandoned buildings went, this place was actually kind of nice. Lots of hardwood, casks and barrels all over the place, many of them still filled with wine that, judging from the scent, hadn't gone off yet.

"What is this place?" a nervous Molly asked as they descended the stairs into the massive cellar.

"Looks like an old vineyard," Buffy answered.

"An evil vineyard, huh?" Kennedy's confident tone sounded only slightly forced.

"Like _Falcon Crest_," Spike said, earning him a few puzzled looks. Didn't any of these girls watch TV?

"Stay alert, you guys," Buffy warned, "Bringers are here, somewhere. Just need to find out where."

As they crept past the rows of towering casks, Spike noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. "Shouldn't be too hard."

The Bringers leapt out of hiding and the battle began. Spike was pleased to see that the Potentials were holding their own, even with their lack of Slayer strength. For a while it looked like this mission would succeed. Then the Bringers unexpectedly fell back and a new figure sauntered into view. Spike saw the collar and knew right away this had to be Caleb. The man sported a mop of brown hair and boyish good looks. His charming grin was almost contagious. But it was his eyes that gave him away; there was nothing behind them. It was like looking into a demon's eyes, only somehow worse. Spike instinctively wanted to recoil from the man.

"Well, now!" Caleb declared, "You girls are just burning with righteousness, aren't you? Problem is, you think you're blazing like suns, when really you're burning like matchsticks in the face of the darkness." He grinned at their wary stares. "You having fun? Now, I hope my boys haven't worn you out too much. I need you fit for when I purify you."

"Save the sermon, padre," Buffy snapped, "I heard you have something of mine."

"Well, I do now!" Caleb laughed, indicating the girls with a sweep of his arm. "You liked my little message, did you? You know, I ruined a perfectly good knife on that girl," his affable expression took on a hint of disgust, "Got her soiled blood all over the place. I may need to get a new truck."

_This bloke's a real sack of hammers_, Spike thought. He was standing right beside Buffy, but he might as well have been invisible for all the notice Caleb gave him. The preacher's eyes were fixated solely on the petite blonde woman, something akin to awe in his expression. "So, you're the Slayer. _The _Slayer, _the_ strongest, _the_ fastest, _the_ most aflame with that most precious invention of all mankind; the notion of goodness," Caleb smiled, "Well, the Slayer must indeed be powerful."

His fist suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed, sending the Slayer careening across the room and crashing into the far wall. She dropped to the floor, unconscious or stunned. Caleb grinned, "So, what else you got?"

Spike instantly slipped into gameface and lunged at the preacher. Caleb swatted the vampire down like he was nothing more than a minor nuisance, yet Spike felt as if he'd been hit by a wrecking ball. He scrambled back to his feet and struck Caleb with a desperate spin kick. Somewhat annoyed, Caleb punched Spike in the jaw, snapping the vampire's head back. Then he grabbed the half-dazed platinum blonde and threw him head-first into the nearest giant wine cask. The upper half of Spike's body crashed through the cask, then a tidal wave of red wine sent him rolling onto the floor.

The Bringers went back to fighting the Potentials. Caleb meandered through the battle, occasionally striking down one of the girls. He batted Kennedy into a stack of barrels, snapped Rona's arm like a dry twig, then he picked up a fallen knife and tossed it to one of the Bringers. As the Bringer went to finish Rona off, an arrow suddenly embedded itself into his wrist. Caleb's head turned in surprise to see the backup group had arrived. He beamed in delight. "Oh, good! There's more of you!"

Faith came at him, a knife in each hand. She sent the preacher staggering back a step with a hard kick to the solar plexus. The blades in her hands whirred with deadly speed, but Caleb's inhuman reflexes easily allowed him to dodge them. "Well, you're the other one, aren't you?" he declared, intrigued, "The Cain to her Abel? No offense meant to Cain, of course."

"Never was much for the good book," Faith snarled, lashing out with her knives.

Caleb grabbed her wrists, twisted them around each other until her numbed fingers could no longer hold on to the blades. The weapons fell from her grasp with a clatter.

"Oh, it has its moments," the preacher countered, "But overall, I find it a tad complicated." He knocked Faith to the floor with a vicious backhand. "I like to keep things simple." He kicked the downed Slayer in the stomach, sent her crashing into some nearby barrels. Faith fell in a cascade of splintered wood and spilled wine, groaning in pain.

"Good folk," Caleb continued, "bad folk."

A Potential swung her sword at him. He caught the blade with one hand, grabbed the girl's neck with the other. "Clean folk, dirty folk." With a hard twist, the girl's neck snapped. He let the body fall.

Molly watched the death of one of her friends in horror. "No!"

Caleb smiled beatifically. "Yes."

Buffy was starting to push herself up from the floor. She shakily looked around, saw more of the girls were getting hurt as they started to tire. If they didn't get away soon, they'd all be slaughtered. Xander hurried to crouch in front of her.

"Xander. Get them out of here," Buffy rasped, "We have to retreat."

Her friend nodded, helped her stand, then hurried off to sound the retreat.

Molly tried to fight back against the approaching preacher. She swung her short sword at him, but he caught it easily. The next thing she knew, there was a hand at her throat and her feet were lifted off the ground. Caleb twisted the sword from her grasp, turned it around so the blade faced her. "What can I say? I work in mysterious ways."

The blade plunged into Molly's body. A tiny gasp was all she managed to get out before the light vanished from her eyes and she went limp. Caleb dropped her corpse with an arrogant smirk. "Also some fairly straightforward ones."

Buffy had witnessed the whole thing. Enraged, she rushed at him. Her anger-fueled blows rained down on Caleb so fast, he didn't have time to react. Two powerful uppercuts in quick succession sent him flying across the room. Before Buffy could press her advantage, someone grabbed her arm. She spun around to find herself confronting a wine-soaked Spike.

"We are leaving," the vampire's tone brooked no argument. His grip still tight on her arm, he and Buffy started to follow the retreating Potentials.

Xander saw a half-conscious Kennedy trying to get to her feet and rushed to help her. As he sent her stumbling for the exit, something grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.

"You're the one who sees everything, aren't you?" Caleb observed the terrified man in curiosity. "Well, let's see what we can do about that." He raised a hand to Xander's face and drove his thumb into the man's left eye. Xander shrieked, blood pouring from his eyesocket.

Spike reacted to Xander's cries and cannoned into the preacher, knocking him away long enough for Spike and Buffy to half-carry Xander to safety. Spike looked over his shoulder as they hurried up the stairs and saw that Caleb had regained his feet, but made no move to chase after them. The preacher's face bore a satisfied smile. And why wouldn't he be smug? He'd single-handedly massacred them.

Their losses were devastating. Two girls dead, half of the survivors hospitalized, the rest bearing all manner of non-fatal wounds that needed to be tended to. None one of them came out of the battle unscathed.

But it was the blow to their psyches that was the worst. Whatever confidence they had in their abilities was shattered by Caleb and his Bringers. Worse, their confidence in Buffy was badly shaken. They doubted her leadership, doubted her ability to see them through this war alive. And Buffy felt the same way. She'd had her doubts before, but now a big part of her truly believed they had no hope of winning against the First. She'd failed the Potentials, the Scoobies, Spike. Their first real battle and they'd nearly all been slaughtered. What chance did any of them have?

Unable to face the girls' reproachful looks, Buffy left the house without a word and silently walked down the empty nighttime street. She had no destination in mind, just walked, arms crossed, her thoughts desolate.

Footsteps behind her. She knew who it was; she felt him.

Spike drew up beside her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his duster. He still smelled of stale wine, his white-blonde hair sticky and reddish-tinged. "It's not your fault, luv."

Buffy didn't dignify that with a response. It was her plan, her responsibility. It _was_ her fault. Her friends had all advised against it. Even Spike had some reservations about it. But Buffy refused to listen. She'd let her impatience and frustration get the better of her and recklessly led them all straight into Caleb's blindingly obvious trap. God, she was such an idiot! And the girls and Xander had paid the price for her arrogance.

A light touch on her arm halted her steps. She reluctantly turned to face Spike's concerned gaze.

"Buffy—"

"I need..." she licked her lips, eyes lowered, "I need to be alone for a while."

Spike's blue eyes echoed her pain. "You're never alone."

And it was true. He was always with her, comforting her, sharing his strength with her. But she couldn't look at him right now. She couldn't look at anyone.

"Please, just...just go home," her voice held a faint quaver, "Get cleaned up. Help take care of the girls."

Spike gazed at her for a long moment, then finally nodded. He let her feel his love and unwavering support through the link as he reluctantly turned away and went back the way they'd come. Buffy continued on her lonely, aimless walk. The future seemed as bleak as the empty street ahead of her.


	20. Chapter 20: Empty Places

**A/N:** The last part of this episode always pissed me off. Buffy's friends had been with her through thick and thin for seven years, and suddenly they all turn on her? I never found that abrupt fickleness to be plausible. They should have stood by her, no matter how bad the vineyard went. It's not like they hadn't been through similar disasters in their time, right?

Well, here's my correction. Happy reading!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_You can fake it for a while,_

_Bite your tongue and smile,_

_Like every mother does an ugly child._

_But the stars are leaking out,_

_Like spittle from a cloud,_

_Amassed resentment counting ounce and pound._

_You're entertaining any doubt,_

_Because you had to know that I was fond of you,_

_Fond of Y-O-U,_

_Though I knew you masked your disdain._

_I can see that change was just too hard for us,_

_Hard for us._

_You always had to hold the reins,_

_But where I'm headed, you just don't know the way._

-The Shins, "Turn On Me"

Buffy walked all night, wandering aimlessly from street to street. She didn't even pay attention to where she was going, too caught up in remorse and woe to care about where her feet took her.

There was a drastic change when the sun rose. The streets suddenly became flooded with cars of every description, all of them crammed with people's worldly possessions and trying to leave town. Everyone, human and demon alike, had decided to cut and run while they still could. Rats deserting a sinking ship. It wasn't long before traffic became so congested that the vehicles moved at a crawl. Many people lost patience and decided to go on foot, toting whatever luggage they could carry. Buffy was the only one headed in the opposite direction. She felt like a salmon fighting the current.

"Hey, you!"

She turned in surprise to see Clem's familiar wrinkly face peering out at her from a new red VW Beetle. Buffy smiled and approached. "Hey."

"Do you believe this _meshuggaas_?" Clem waved at the surrounding exodus with a clawed hand.

"Yeah. You'd think these people had never seen an apocalypse before." Buffy kept pace as the Beetle inched forward with the slow traffic. "What about you? You just goin' for a quick spin to 7-Eleven...in Nebraska?"

The demon looked apologetic. "It's gettin' bad here. _Really_ bad. Hellmouth acting up again. People feeling it, getting crazier. You can't swing a cat without hitting some kind of demonic activity. Not that I swing cats," he hastily added, "Or eat. Nope, cutting way back. Cholesterol—Morals! I mean morals."

Buffy almost laughed at Clem's nervous stammering. Even though they were friends, Clem never completely got comfortable with the Slayer aspect of her life, even though she'd reassured him more than once that he had nothing to worry about from her. She only killed the dangerous demons.

"We've seen some bad stuff in this town before, but, y'know, this time, it's like it just seems different. More powerful." He shook his head, long ears flopping. "I don't think anyone's gonna be able to stop it." His eyes widened and he quickly corrected himself, "I mean, I'm sure you'll do fine! Complete confidence in you. Heh. Uh, if anyone can do it, you can, because you rock! If you save the world, I'll come back. We'll have drinks." His nervous smile dropped. "_When,_" he amended,"_When_, I mean. _When_ you save the world. It's gonna be great with all the...rocking."

Buffy nodded, playing along with the fake confidence.

Clem sobered, "Maybe...Maybe you should just get out of town this time."

Buffy gazed off into the distance. "Yeah," she sighed, "I probably should."

Clem's smile was a little more sympathetic. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

The Slayer nodded. She and the demon waved farewell, then Buffy continued for home while Clem's cute little car gradually pulled away.

Buffy was still a couple of miles from home when her cellphone rang. It was Willow. She, Tara, and Giles had gone to the police to wangle some information on any unsolved cases involving churches that Caleb might have been involved in. Giles had returned to the house, but Willow and Tara had gone to the hospital to visit Xander. They had the police files with them. Buffy agreed to meet them at the hospital. It would also give her a chance to talk to Xander's doctor and find out about her friend's condition.

Caleb's assault had done a lot of damage. There was nothing left of Xander's eye to save. There was even some damage to the bone structure and musculature, which had required some surgery to repair.

Xander sat up in the reclining hospital bed, a thick patch of gauze over his left eye. He looked somewhat listless from whatever drugs they'd put him on. Willow sat at his bedside, holding his hand. Tara stood a short distance away with the police file in her hands and a kind smile on her face.

Buffy felt strained just being there. She hated being at the hospital, hated seeing one of her best friends so badly hurt. She should've been supportive, but all she did was relate to him what the doctor had told her about his condition. Keeping an emotional distance.

"They said that the meds may cause you some semi-discomfort, so you'll have to be careful with your diet."

Xander managed a weak smile. "Can't taste anything right now, anyway. I keep waiting for my other senses to improve fifty percent. They should kick in any day now."

Buffy nodded, unable to even feign amusement. "Well, we're looking at a possible release as early as tonight," she stated awkwardly, "Um, we're just waiting for your labs to get back and Dr. Kallet said that should be a couple of hours."

"That's great," Xander said without much enthusiasm.

"Okay," Buffy let out a breath, "Um, I think we're all caught up, then." Inwardly, she winced at her businesslike tone. She reached out and took the file from Tara. "Thank you for this. This was, um, really great work."

Realizing Buffy was about to leave, a surprised Willow blurted, "Oh. I thought we were... There were gonna be card games."

Buffy stared guiltily at her friends. "Uh, no, I jus— I should really get back. I wanna get everyone started on this. I think we're really close to something."

Xander nodded in understanding. "It's okay. It's gotta be done. And I might see you tonight. Without depth perception, of course, but, still..."

Buffy managed a faint smile before she made her escape from the oppressively sterile room.

* * *

"Hey, who's here?" Buffy called out as she entered the house. She sensed that Spike was asleep in their room and decided to let him be. One of them should be well-rested, at least.

"Hey, Buffy, how's Xander?" Dawn asked as she, Faith, and Kennedy emerged from the kitchen.

"He's...doing really well," Buffy replied, a little hesitant, "He's, uh, ready to come home, I think." She carried the file over to the dining area and began emptying out the papers onto the table.

"What you got?" Faith asked.

"Info that Giles and Willow were able to pull off the police database. We figured with Caleb's, y'know, overt religiosity thing, we wanna learn more about him, let's find out where he's been."

Faith picked up a report and read the long heading, "'Incidents Of Violence and Vandalism Connected to California Religious Institutions in the Last Ten Years.' Looks like this gives us a place to start."

"Yeah, I figured we'd start with California," Buffy said, "If we don't find anything there, then we'll expand the search. But a guy like Caleb didn't just get in the game. He's been playing for a while, and I want to know where. Whatever it takes." She looked at her sister. "You good to help?"

Dawn pretended to consider it. "Well, I was gonna do lots and lots of homework, but, darn the luck, they went and canceled school. So...looks like I got the time."

Buffy handed her a sheaf of papers without so much as cracking a smile, then sat down to start leafing through a manila folder.

Dawn hesitated, then ventured, "Hey, Buffy. How was Xander's mood, uh, you know, exactly?"

Buffy didn't respond, pretending to be too focused on reading.

Dawn plowed ahead, "And did you get a chance to talk to the doctor about the meds? Uh, because it seemed—"

"Hey, pipsqueak," Faith interrupted, "why don't you go and get some of the stuff you've already gotten from Giles."

Dawn glanced at the other Slayer, looked at Buffy's tense posture, then finally got the hint. "Or, um, y'know, we can talk about this later...maybe."

"Okay," Buffy whispered, not looking up.

"Yeah. I'll be right back." Dawn got up from the table and left the room to collect Giles's research.

"Try to find anything that looks like Caleb," Buffy said to the others, "his church, his ring..."

"His ability to render a Slayer useless in just one punch," Kennedy blurted. Her eyes widened when she saw Buffy tense. "I didn't...uh... That was stupid. I—I don't know why I said that."

"It's okay. Uh, you know," Buffy stood, picked up her jacket from the back of the chair, "I-I have to go to the school. Pick up the rest of my stuff."

Kennedy stood, her expression remorseful. "I really didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Buffy forced a smile, "Really, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Hey, uh, isn't Anya doing that thing for you guys today?"

"Yeah. We were," Kennedy fidgeted, "I probably should head down there now." With one last regretful look, she returned to the crowded basement with the other Potentials.

"Okay. I'll be back soon." She looked at Faith. "See that everyone else gets started on this."

The other Slayer nodded.

Buffy left the house once again and walked to the high school. The place was deserted, locker doors hanging open, loose papers and discarded textbooks littering the halls. Not a living soul in sight. Buffy entered the faculty office and went straight to her cubicle, sat behind her desk and stared at the knickknacks she'd decorated her work area with. She picked up a framed photo of her, Willow, and Xander taken her first year in Sunnydale. The three of them looked so much younger then. Nothing more than innocent children.

"That is one long face you're wearing."

Buffy looked up into a pair of sympathetic green eyes. The First Good stood on the other side of the desk, leaning forward, hands resting on the desks' surface. Or appearing to, anyway.

"You know what happened," Buffy said. It wasn't a question; more an accusation.

The girl-who-wasn't-a-girl nodded. "I'm sorry for your losses," she stated solemnly.

Buffy glared. "You could've said something. Warned us about whatever the hell Caleb is—"

"Caleb's human," the First informed her, then shrugged, "Technically, anyway."

"'Technically'? He's almost as strong as Glory was!"

"Caleb is an anomaly," the girl explained, "Unlike me, my twin can only reveal itself to people who've been marked by the Hellmouth—people who live in Sunnydale or used to live here. Or to people who are...tainted. See, demons have essences, and humans have souls. If a demon somehow gains a soul—through a curse or a gift, whatever—it's a miracle. But in a few extremely rare instances, a human's born _without_ a soul, and that's an abomination. And I'm not just bein' dramatic here. A human, a creature of the Light, without a soul is so _wrong_ that even demons instinctively recoil from it. And that's what Caleb is."

Buffy thought about Spike's gut reaction to Caleb. The vampire had been repulsed by the false preacher. He hadn't even known why, it was just something he felt deep down.

The First Good continued, "Caleb has a howling abyss where his soul should've been, and my twin is using that emptiness to fill him up with its power, using him as its vessel. He's like a super-charged battery. Even only half-juiced like he is now, Caleb's stronger than just about anything, human or demon."

Buffy pursed her lips. "He's stronger than me. I couldn't even hurt him," her voice dropped to a whisper, "We don't stand a chance." She gazed helplessly at the being in front of her. "Can you help us?"

"I could," the girl acknowledged, "I could go out into the world right now, find a vessel, fill it with my power, give you an unstoppable warrior." She paused. "But I won't."

Buffy stared, incredulous. "What?"

"Buffy, you don't need my help," the First smiled gently, "You have all the strength you need to win this war. You do. But if I step in and involve myself like my twin is, you'll never find that strength in yourself. If I help you, I'll just wind up crippling you."

Buffy shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "You're wrong. I can't—I can't win this war. I've already failed everybody at the vineyard. Rona, and Xander, and...and Molly," her voice cracked on the dead Potential's name, "Caleb's just too powerful."

"There's more than one kind of power," the First Good replied, "My twin and Caleb believe in the power of brute strength. They gather it up and hold it close, all greedy like Scrooge with his money. Your power's different. You're a matchstick, like Caleb said. One match doesn't seem like that much...but whole forests have burned down because of less. That's how the Light works; it only gets stronger when its _shared,_ not hoarded. That's what you've gotta figure out."

"And if I can't?"

The First smiled, "You will."

And then Buffy found herself once again alone in the abandoned high school. She wanted to be angry at the First Good for leaving her to her own devices, but part of her knew the girl-like being was right; she had to find the strength in herself, just like she always had. Sniffling, Buffy stood, hugged the photo of her friends to her chest, and left the office for the last time.

Halfway home, she ran through what the First Good had said about power, and she had an epiphany.

* * *

Spike was roused by a tentative knock at the bedroom door. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and grumbled, "What?"

The door cracked open just enough for Amanda to peek in. "Um, Mr. Giles wants to talk to you."

Spike's first impulse was to tell the girl to shove off, but seeing how late in the day it was, he realized he ought to get out of bed, anyway. "Tell him I'll be down in a sec."

Amanda nodded and ducked out. Spike rolled out of bed and threw on some relatively clean clothes, brushed back his sleep-mussed hair, then clomped downstairs to the living room. Most of the Potentials were gathered there, along with Giles, Andrew, and Faith. Andrew was glaring at Faith as she munched on the last few bites of a Hotpocket.

Spike addressed the Watcher, "What's up, Rupert?"

Giles grimaced slightly at the vampire's casual use of his first name. "Spike, I have a mission for you. Take a look at this." He handed over a crime scene photograph and a small magnifying glass.

The photo showed the interior of some kind of church. Spike peered through the magnifying glass, saw that what had appeared to be a knothole on the wall was actually a brand; a circle with a cross at its center. Just like the one Caleb burned onto Shannon's neck. "Looks like our boy's been here," Spike observed, "You wanna go check it out?"

"I need someone who can take care of themselves in case Caleb is after some souvenirs," Giles told him.

Spike nodded in agreement. It was dark enough outside. He could head out right away on his motorcycle.

Andrew's petulant voice suddenly broke in, "Are we gonna get to the food-stealing issue soon?"

"Take Andrew," Giles abruptly suggested.

Spike and Andrew both blurted, "What?"

"Well, you are always saying you wanna get out of the house more," Dawn remarked to the former hostage.

Andrew fidgeted uncertainly. "Yeah, but—"

"Well, there may be demons lurking about," Giles reasoned, "You never know. He's a demon expert. He can help."

Spike scoffed, "Oh, please!"

The Watcher closed the distance between them, dropping his voice to a low murmur so the rest of the room's occupants couldn't overhear, "Spike, I am begging you, take him with you. If I have to deal with Andrew's incessant whinging a moment longer I may end up throttling him."

"And that's a bad thing?" At Giles's half pleading, half threatening look, Spike rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, he can come. But you owe me one, Rupert."

"Excellent!" Giles grinned and waved Andrew towards the front door. "Off you go."

Face scrunched in displeasure, Andrew rose from his seat and slouched after the equally unhappy vampire.

Not long after Spike and Andrew's departure, Buffy returned with a renewed sense of purpose. "Hey, guys, how's it...going?" She gazed in dismay at the empty living room.

"Buffy," Giles appeared from the dining room.

"Giles! How did those police files work out? Were they helpful?"

"Uh, uh, yes. Very much so, I think," he took off his glasses and began to clean them, "Um, th-there's evidence that Caleb may have established a foothold up north."

Buffy's eyebrows rose at this unexpected good fortune. "That's great."

"I, um, sent Spike to look into it," Giles returned his glasses to his nose, "I sent Andrew with him."

Her eyebrows rose even higher at this. "Andrew? Giles, I know you don't like Spike that much, but..._Andrew?_"

Giles winced in apology. "I-I really think some time away will do him some good." He added under his breath, "I know it'll be good for me."

Buffy decided to drop the matter in favor of something more immediate, "Where did everybody go? Faith, the girls, where are they?"

"Um, Faith thought that the girls could do with some time off their studies," Giles hesitated, sensing this wouldn't go over well, "She took them to The Bronze."

Buffy's look could only be described as disappointed.

Giles stammered, "Th-The girls made what seemed like a valid argument for it at the time."

"They ganged up on you, didn't they?"

The Watcher hung his head. "Yes."

Taking pity on him, Buffy patted his shoulder. "Yeah, well, it's not like I ever listened when you tried to reason with me, either." She headed for the door. "I'm gonna see if I can get to them before they start a riot."

"Good luck," Giles muttered.

* * *

It seemed Buffy's concerns were well founded. She arrived at The Bronze just as Faith and a couple of other girls finished knocking out a handful of cops. "Faith! What are you doing?"

"Just blowin' off steam," Faith shrugged, "Well, it started that way. It turned when the cops went evil on us."

The rest of the Potentials, along with Dawn, came out of The Bronze. Some of the girls were visibly swaying on their feet. Buffy frowned. "Girls, go home. I need to talk to Faith for a minute."

Dawn started to protest, "Buffy, we weren't—"

"Dawn!" she barked, "You too. Go."

As the girls were herded off, Buffy turned the full power of her scowl on Faith. "What is this?"

"They needed a break, all right?" Faith retorted, defensive, "They've been runnin' themselves into the ground. Things just got out of hand."

"Taking a break is one thing," Buffy growled, "I get blowing off steam. But they were fighting! And those girls were _drunk!_ What were you thinking?"

Faith squirmed guiltily. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Yeah? What if someone had gotten hurt?"

"They didn't."

Buffy struggled for a more reasonable tone, "Faith, I need to know that these girls are gonna be safe when I'm not around."

"No one got hurt, B," the other Slayer argued, "Look, you don't even know these girls. Maybe you should have a little more confidence in them. Let 'em mess up sometimes, y'know? Get down and dirty. How the hell else they gonna learn?"

"Learning from your mistakes is one thing, but you don't throw children—"

"They're not children."

Buffy glared. "That really isn't the point."

As she started to walk away, Faith called after her, "Hey, what about the vineyard?"

Buffy slowly turned to face her. Her voice was dangerously low as she asked, "What?"

Ignoring the danger, Faith pressed on, "How safe were they when you dragged them off to meet Caleb? How safe was Rona or Amanda or Molly—"

A right hook to the jaw silenced her. Buffy didn't even look back as she stormed off, leaving Faith to pick herself up.

* * *

Right away, Spike regretted letting Giles convince him to take this dubious mission. For one thing, he could sense that Buffy was experiencing a great deal of rage and frustration over something, and he wasn't there to help her through whatever it was. For another, Andrew was driving him around the bend with his endless prattling.

"You sure you don't wanna stop and pick up some burgers or something?" Andrew yelled over the motorcycle's engine, "You know, road trip food?"

"It's not a road trip. It's a covert operation." Spike felt like an idiot saying that. Covert was the last word that sprang to mind on seeing a grinning Andrew with an old football helmet on his head for protection hugging the vampire's waist just a little too cozily.

"I-I bet even covert operatives eat curly fries. They're really good."

Spike didn't know what possessed him to say, "Not as good as those onion blossom things."

"Ooh, I love those!" Andrew enthused.

"Yeah, me too," Spike admitted.

"It's an onion and it's a flower," Andrew mused, "I-I don't understand how such a thing is possible."

"Well, you see, the genius of it is, you soak it in ice water for an hour so it holds its shape," Spike explained, "Then you deep-fry it root-side up for about five minutes."

"Masterful!"

"Yeah."

They rode in silence for a moment, then Spike said, "Tell anyone we had this conversation, I'll bite you."

Andrew nodded, helmet wobbling, his happy smile unabated.

They reached their destination about an hour later. The old mission looked deserted, but when they entered Spike noticed several candles had been lit. Someone was there, but for whatever reason chose to stay hidden.

Andrew stuck close to the vampire's side, his eyes darting nervously around. "These kind of places make me feel funny inside."

Spike snorted, "How 'bout that. You and me got something else in common after all."

A hooded figure suddenly leapt out of a nearby door and attacked them. Spike thought it was a Bringer at first, until he knocked the attacker down and managed to yank the hood back. It was an ordinary human man, his eyes wide and terrified. Judging from the outfit and the large cross hanging from his neck, he was one of the monks who'd disappeared from the mission. A burn marred his right cheek; Caleb's brand.

Spike loomed over the frightened man. "Tell me about the mark," he demanded, "Are you part of Caleb's faction?"

The monk vehemently shook his head. "No, no!"

"Then tell me what happened." Spike forced his voice to sound less threatening. "We're trying to fight him. We need your help."

"You can't fight him," the monk shuddered, "You can't stop him. You can only run."

Spike straightened. "Talk."

The man gazed up at him, then came to a decision. "I'll do better. I'll show you."

Spike offered his hand and helped the monk to his feet. The monk grabbed a nearby candelabra and led Spike and Andrew down a long hallway. "One night, some time ago, a man arrived at our doors."

"And you said, 'Come in, do some damage'?" Spike asked with heavy sarcasm.

The man gave him a mildly reproving look. "We are a benevolent order. And yes, we welcomed him. We offered to feed him, but he had come for something else."

They reached the end of the hall where a statue of the Virgin Mary stood. The monk pushed the statue and the entire wall swiveled back; a concealed door. "Behind this he revealed something even we didn't know was here. A secret room. He was excited, talking the whole time. Destiny, that sort of thing."

"Yeah, we hear he's a real smooth-talker," Spike muttered.

"He was going on about this ancient inscription." The monk took down a small tapestry, revealing a tablet embedded in the wall. It was covered in ancient lettering. "He read it, and he didn't like what it said. His temper..." the man shivered at the memory, "He was the purest evil I've ever seen. He burned his mark upon me. And then I ran, and I hid...and I listened to the others die."

Andrew, in an unusual show of sensitivity, said to the monk, "Running away saved your life."

Spike stared at the tablet open-mouthed. He recognized the inscription. It was in Michael Poole's book. Yet another illustration now revealed as fact.

"What does it say?" Andrew asked, unaware of the vampire's shock.

"'It is not for thee,'" Spike quoted, "'It is for her alone to wield.'"

But what did it mean?

* * *

Buffy gave the girls some time to sober up a little from their adventure, then she called a meeting. Xander would be home soon, plus she needed to let everyone know about her earlier revelation at the high school. She even phoned Robin, and the former principal arrived within minutes of her call.

Xander's car pulled up in the driveway, Willow behind the wheel. She helped Xander into the house and Anya hurried to support his other side. His single eye took in the sight of the homemade WELCOME HOME, XANDER banner hanging on the wall over the fireplace and he smiled.

"We didn't have time to do more," Kennedy told him, "You have to pretend there's a big party here."

His smile broadened a little. "That's fine. Parties in this house, I usually end up having to rebuild something."

He made his careful way to the comfy chair left available for him and sat down with a weary sigh. Buffy entered the living room and gave him a warm smile. "Welcome home, Xander. I wanted you to be here for this. I think you'll be interested in what I found out."

"Wh-What did you find out?" Tara asked while Willow took a seat beside her on the crowded couch.

"It's about the cellar, at the vineyard," Buffy said, "Look, I know that night wasn't fun for any of us, but I figured out some things about that place, and I realize now what we have to do." She braced herself for their reactions. "We're going back in."

There were some shocked protests, mostly from the girls. Buffy waved them into silence. "Look, I know what you're thinking. But I-I figured something out," she tried to explain, "We've spent all this time worrying about the seal and the Hellmouth. Wh-Why isn't Caleb guarding them? Why doesn't he have someone at the school protecting it? Why is he camped out at the vineyard? The bad guys always go where the power is. So, if the seal was so important to Caleb and the First, they would be there right now. They're protecting the vineyard, or something _at_ the vineyard. I say it's their power. And I say it's time we go in and take it away from them."

Faith broke the moment of stunned silence, "Or, in the alternative, how 'bout we don't? I mean, it's a neat theory, B, but I'm not going back in that place. Not without proof. And neither should you, and neither should they."

Buffy tried to argue, "I'm not saying it's gonna be easy—"

"I think Faith had the floor," Robin surprised her by interjecting. Buffy stared at him, startled and somewhat betrayed.

"Maybe it ends okay the way you wanna play it," Faith continued, "but maybe it doesn't. And right now, I don't think I want you playing the odds."

"Did you come here to fight?" Buffy challenged.

"Listen, we're fighters, all of us, but you gotta give me something to fight. Something _real_, not—"

"Windmills," Robin stated quietly.

Buffy shook her head, thrown off by their doubt in her. She and Faith might not have been friends, but they'd been working well together since the other Slayer's return. And she'd believed Robin had been willing to put aside his grudge over Spike, but now she was beginning to see that this was easier said than done for the demon hunter. "There _is_ something there," she protested.

"Maybe, but we can't be sure of that," Wood countered, "This is a hell of a lot to ask. Too much."

Giles spoke up in Buffy's defense, "For seven years, she has kept us safe by doing this—exactly this. Making the hard decisions."

"I've gotten us this far," Buffy stated, "And now you're acting like you can't trust me?"

"Why should we trust you?" Rona spoke up, "You're being reckless. You are!" she insisted at the Slayer's incredulous look. "Man, I don't even know you and I can tell! You are so obsessed with beating Caleb, you are willing to jump into any plan without thinking."

Buffy shook her head. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Well, that's how it feels to us," Kennedy stood to confront her, "People are dying."

Willow reached out to touch the girl's arm. "Kennedy."

She whirled angrily on the redhead. "Why are you always standing up for her?"

"Because she's always gotten us through the bad times," Willow answered solemnly, "Even if it meant sacrificing her own life, she always got us through the danger alive."

The Potentials remained unconvinced. Buffy could tell she was losing them. They didn't have the history with her that the Scoobies did; didn't share the same confidence in her that her friends did.

"Look, I wish this could be a democracy. I really do," Buffy said, "But democracies don't win battles. It's a hard truth, but there has to be a single voice. You need someone to issue orders and be reckless sometimes, and not take your feelings into account. You need someone to lead you."

"And it's automatically you?" Anya spoke for the first time. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression hard. "You really do think you're better than we are."

Buffy gaped, shocked by the venom in the former demon's voice. "No, I—"

"But we don't know," Anya continued, "We don't know if you're actually better. I mean, you came into the world with certain advantages, sure. I mean, that's the legacy. But you didn't _earn_ it. You didn't _work for_ it. You've never had anybody come up to you and say that you deserve these things more than anyone else. They were just handed to you. So, that doesn't make you better than us. It makes you _luckier_ than us."

Lucky? She thought this duty, this responsibility, the constant risk and sacrifice was lucky? Anya really didn't understand just how hard being the Slayer was; all she saw was the glory and attention Buffy seemed to garner from it.

Buffy struggled to regain control of the meeting-turned-confrontation. "Look, I'm willing to talk strategy. I'll hear suggestions on how to break this down, but this is the plan. We have to be together on this, or we will fail again."

"Buffy, we're clearly _not_ together on this," Robin argued.

"Which is why you have to fall in line!" she snapped, "I'm still in charge here."

"And why is that, exactly?" Rona asked, her tone bordering on insolent.

Buffy stared at her. "Because I'm the Slayer."

"And isn't Faith a Slayer, too?" the girl countered.

Faith obviously wasn't expecting this. "What? Whoa, whoa, whoa. So not what I meant! I'm not In Charge Chick. I think B here just needs to chill out for a little bit, take a siesta or something, but I'm not the one you want."

"Maybe we need a vote, to see who wants Faith to have a turn in charge," Kennedy suggested smugly, ignoring Faith's protests.

Buffy's hands clenched at her sides, her anger rising. "I didn't know this was a popularity contest."

"We don't feel safe with you in charge anymore," Rona stated bluntly, "If you lead us back to that vineyard, you're just gonna get us all killed."

Kennedy all but spat out, "You're so full of yourself, you won't even listen to other people's ideas. It's always gotta be _your_ way. Well, we're sick of it! It's time to put somebody else in charge. Somebody who cares about us."

"You're wrong," Xander spoke up, voice still weak with recovery, but his conviction strong as ever, "Buffy cares more than you'll ever know. She wouldn't lead us into danger for the sake of her ego."

"If you believe that, then you can vote for her," Robin responded calmly. "Unless," he turned his steady gaze on Buffy, "you're forbidding us from holding a vote."

Buffy was cornered and she knew it. She was confident in her friends' support, but the Potentials and Robin were clearly against her. If she allowed the vote, she would lose against the majority. If she denied them the chance to vote, she would likely wind up with a mutiny on her hands. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Robin nodded. "So, we vote."

It didn't take long. Giles, Dawn, Willow, Tara, and Xander all raised their hands in favor of Buffy. But all the rest, including Robin and Anya, chose Faith.

"The majority's spoken," Robin declared, "Faith's our new leader."

A small, petty voice in Buffy's head said that Faith had plotted this all along, but the rational side of her knew that wasn't so. There was not an ounce of triumph in the other Slayer's demeanor. Faith was a soldier, not a general, and she knew it.

Despair threatened to overwhelm Buffy. She knew that Faith was sure to lead them all into disaster, however well-intended her actions. But there was nothing Buffy could do about it. She was powerless.

Without a word, she headed for the stairs, ignoring her friends' sad gazes.

"Ding-dong, the witch is dead," Rona muttered.

Dawn snarled, "Shut your mouth!"

Rona had the decency to look shamefaced.

Faith hurried after the retreating Slayer. She called out to her in the second floor hallway, "Hey. Look, I swear I didn't want it to go this way."

Buffy halted, her back to the other woman. "Don't."

"I mean it. I—"

"Don't be afraid to lead them," her voice was thick with barely suppressed emotion, "Whether you wanted it or not, their lives are yours. It's only gonna get harder." She turned her head to meet Faith's eyes. "Protect them. Lead them."

Faith drew herself up and nodded. Buffy continued walking to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. The click of the latch held a sound of finality.


	21. Chapter 21: Touched

**A/N:** Gettin' near the end. Only a couple more chapter, plus an epilogue. Thanks for all the reviews, favs, and follows! Now, on to the chapter. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_No, I won't surrender_

_At any cost_

_You're something so sweet and tender_

_From my heart_

_Yes, I've done my evil_

_I've done my good_

_Just believe me, honey_

_I won't let go of you_

_You are the one_

_And there's no regrets at all_

_You are the one_

_And there's no regrets at all_

-HIM, "You Are the One"

The raised voices from the continuing argument downstairs finally drew Buffy from her room. She crept down the stairs and sat down on the lowermost steps, taking a page from Dawn's book as she listened in on the chaos in the living room. It didn't take long to figure out that no one could even agree on a new system of debate. They were all trying to talk over each other, too intent on getting their own ideas across to listen to anyone else's.

"'Power to the people'? You sound like a child of the Seventies," Giles scoffed at one point.

Faith attempted to mediate, "Okay, guys, try not to freak out." She might as well have been talking to herself.

" All I'm saying is, now that Buffy's not here, we finally have some say in how and when we lose our necks," an excited Kennedy declared.

"I'm thinkin' maybe not everyone here should have a say," Xander snarked.

A weary sounding Giles spoke up, "W-We just have to find some way of having constructive dialog without going completely mad."

Buffy could imagine the Watcher removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. The din from all the chattering voices was probably giving the poor guy a headache.

"I just wonder if those of us who've been here longer should have more of a say," Kennedy muttered, sullen.

"Y-You guys," Tara's uncharacteristically raised voice indicated her frustration, "I think we're wasting time arguing about how to argue."

Faith finally broke in, her authoritative tone silencing the rest, "Everyone listen to me. Chill. Alright, it's been a long night. I don't know about you, but I'm wiped. Maybe we should catch some sleep and figure all this out in the morning. I understand you guys are wicked stressed. Frankly, our situation blows. We've gotta stay cool. It's the only way we're gonna get through this. Can everyone handle that?"

There were some sounds of agreement. It seemed like things were finally getting under control. Then the lights suddenly went out, plunging the house into darkness.

"What's going on?" a girl cried out.

"I'll get some candles," Amanda volunteered while Kennedy said she'd check the fuse box.

"Don't bother," Faith said, probably looking out a window, "All the lights in the whole street just went out. The people from the power company have got the hell outta Sunnydale."

That made sense. Buffy climbed the stairs to peer out through one of the second floor windows. She couldn't remember ever seeing the town so dark. The only light came from the distant stars and the moon, as well as the occasional flashlight as a couple of panicked straggler families hastily crammed their stuff into their cars before they made their escape. Buffy watched their antics with mild disinterest for a few minutes before the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, warning her of someone's approach. She turned to see Faith walking towards her with a lit candle in one hand.

"Hey." The second Slayer fidgeted. "Uh, can I talk to you for a sec, B?"

"Sure." Buffy led Faith into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She had a pretty good idea what the other Slayer wanted to talk about. "Kinda overwhelming, huh?"

Faith set the candle down on the dresser and crossed her arms. "Yeah. Wasn't expecting everybody to be so..." she waved a hand vaguely. "How the hell'd you do it? How'd you get everybody to listen to you?"

Buffy's mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "The trick is to always sound like you know what you're doing, even when you really don't have a clue. More importantly, you gotta remember that you're their leader, not their friend." She met Faith's eyes with hers, all seriousness. "You can't let yourself worry about whether or not they'll like your decisions. You're in charge, which means you decide what's best for the group. You can listen to other people's ideas, but in the end, it's always up to you."

Faith nodded, still looking a bit uncertain.

"Listen to Giles," Buffy advised, "He knows more than the rest of us put together. I always found his help invaluable."

"Okay."

Buffy hesitated, then decided it would be best to warn her, "Kennedy's gonna try to dominate the next meeting. Don't let her. She's a good fighter, and she thinks that means she knows more about warfare than she really does. She's also used to getting her own way. You gotta put her in her place early on, or she'll keep questioning your orders and making the other Potentials doubt you."

Faith pursed her lips. "Kinda like what happened to you?"

Buffy lowered her gaze, swallowing down a lump in her throat. "I think you've got a chance at being a good leader." She just wasn't sure Faith was ready for it, yet. Not when she was still finding her own feet.

"Thanks, B." Faith's expression was full of regret. "I'm sorry things turned out this way."

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice. Faith left the room, the candle she'd brought with her still on the dresser, casting its flickering light over the darkened bedroom. Buffy curled up on the bed, wishing now more than ever that Spike was there with her. She hugged his pillow to her chest, breathing in the scent of him, and reached out to him through the link. She felt his concern and his reassurance, and his frustration that he couldn't be there. He would hurry back to her as soon as he could. Buffy knew this, so she took what comfort she could 'til then.

* * *

Spike sat on the hard stone floor, his back against the wall. Andrew lay a few feet away on top of a blanket. The monk had brought the blanket before he disappeared to some other part of the abandoned mission.

The first rays of morning light slanted through one of the narrow windows. Spike stretched out his right arm until the light touched the back of his hand. At first, nothing happened. But gradually, the skin reddened, then smoke began to rise. Spike withdrew his hand with a frustrated scowl. His resistance to sunlight was growing, but it still wasn't enough for him to hop on his bike and ride all the way back to Sunnydale. And he _really_ wanted to get back there. Something had happened in his absence. Something that left Buffy feeling devastated. Spike didn't think it was an attack; he hadn't sensed any of the carefully suppressed rage or fear he associated with Buffy fighting. But something bad went down all the same, and Spike was stuck here, unable to help Buffy in any way.

Andrew, bored and oblivious to Spike's turmoil, rolled onto his stomach, rested his chin on his folded hands, and said, "I spy with my little eye something that begins with a T."

"Tapestry," Spike muttered.

Andrew grinned. "Hey, good one! How did you—"

"Tapestry's the only thing in the whole bloody room."

"So say you," Andrew countered, "but I say, look deeper."

Spike grumbled, "I'll look deep into your jugular is what I'll look at."

"Don't spazz out."

"I'm not—" Spike gritted his teeth, "Don't say another word."

Andrew sulked in silence for a moment, then he abruptly brightened at a new idea. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

The vampire threw him an incredulous look. "What's the matter with you? Don't you understand what's happening?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Uh, yeah, we're waiting here 'til it's night again so you can ride on your motorcycle without exploding."

"And every minute we're stuck here, the Slayer's out there facing hell knows what."

"C'mon," Andrew cajoled, "what's the worst thing that could happen to her?"

A deadly growl reverberated in Spike's chest. Andrew finally got the hint and shut up.

* * *

Buffy listened in from the stairs again the next morning. She wanted to know how well Faith handled her new role as leader without seeming to interfere. Already there was a lot less yelling, since everyone had gotten some rest; initial panic from the blackout notwithstanding.

Faith opened up the meeting with, "Alright, so, what do we know?"

"Well, we know we're basically the last humans left in Sunnydale," Xander replied. Sunnydale was now a ghost town. Even the demons and vampires had run off.

"And that all the evil in town wants us dead," a Potential named Caridad added.

Vi squirmed in her seat. "I don't wanna die."

"Don't worry," Anya assured the girl, "It's far more likely you'll live long enough to watch most of your friends die first. And then you'll die."

Kennedy spoke up, "We also know that Caleb told Buffy that everything's going down at the seal. I think we should head—"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Faith cut in, "So, we know we've got a lot of enemies. We'll start there."

Kennedy let out a condescending huff, "Faith, I'm sorry—"

But the Slayer once again interrupted, "I got this, okay?" She addressed the rest of the group, "So, let's go over our rogues' gallery. Who exactly do we have here?"

"Well, there's the First, who we can't touch," said Dawn.

Xander continued, "And there's our friend, the Reverend 'I Hate Women.'"

"Who's basically untouchable," Anya added.

"There's the 'roid-rage vamps, who are pretty much the worst," Dawn sighed, "And the, uh—"

"Bringers," Faith stated, "I think they're our weakest link."

A puzzled Giles asked, "Are you thinking of attacking the Bringers?"

Faith shrugged. "Maybe, or we could kidnap one."

"And what?" Kennedy scoffed, "Hold it ransom?"

Faith managed to tamp down her annoyance at the girl's increasing insolence. "I'm saying, think about getting us a Bringer and making it talk. Find out info on the First and Caleb that way."

From her hiding place at the stairs, Buffy nodded in silent approval. That actually wasn't a bad idea. Only problem was, there was no guarantee they could trust anything the Bringer would say. But even lies held useful information, if one knew what to listen for.

"How do you think we should catch one if they don't wanna be found?" Robin asked.

Before Faith could answer, Kennedy interjected, "I'm not sure this is such a good idea. Why try and get information when we already know about the seal? Why don't we send a team to the high school, do some recon, and—"

"No," Faith stated flatly.

Kennedy stared at her, open mouthed. "Just like that? You're not even listening," the girl complained, "I thought things would be different now, but you keep shutting me down."

"Things _are_ different," Faith retorted, rising from her seat, "because now, I'm your boss. Look, you guys, I'm not Buffy. I'm not the one who's been on your asses all this time. But I'm not one of you anymore, either. I'm your leader. Which means I go first, and I make the rules, and the rest of you follow after me. Is that clear?"

A few silent nods, a few wide-eyed stares, but nobody argued with her. Faith turned her stern gaze on Kennedy. "So, Kennedy, back the hell off and let me do my job, alright?"

The Potential crossed her arms, obviously sulking. Buffy smiled, thinking the other Slayer handled the situation well.

"Okay," Faith declared in a confident tone, "let's get down to business."

They worked out a plan for capturing a Bringer. A few hours later, as the sun lowered in the west, Giles and a handful of Potentials set out to put their plan into action. Kennedy "volunteered" to be the bait, luring some of the Bringers out to try and kill her. The rest of the team would then jump in and slay all but one of the hooded men, who they'd tie up and drag back to the house.

The mission was a success. Giles and the Potentials carried their trussed-up prisoner into the basement chained him up. It was only after Giles tried to question the prisoner that they hit a snag.

"The Bringer's dumb."

Giles and Faith had come up from the basement to speak with the Scoobies and the handful of girls who were gathered in the kitchen. Buffy was also there, standing in a corner out of everyone's way, arms crossed and gaze fixed on her shoes.

"You were expecting, what, a Rhodes Scholar?" Anya quipped.

The Watcher threw her an exasperated look. "Dumb as in mute."

"Someone ripped out its tongue," Faith grimaced.

"Gross!" Amanda exclaimed.

Dawn perked up; an idea had come to her. "Hey, I-I've been reading this old Turkish spellbook. There's an old conjuration that the ancient Turks used to communicate with the dying."

"Oh, yeah," Willow nodded, "I think I read a translation of that."

The teen gaped in dismay. "There's a translation of it?" She took a calming breath, "I'm over it. Um, so this spell is used to communicate with people who can't talk. Would this help us with Mr. No-Tongue?"

Willow gave it some thought. "Yeah, I think so."

"W-We just need to get together a few ingredients," Tara said.

"Alright. Well, cool," Faith nodded approval, "While Willow does that, the rest of us can—"

Buffy tensed a second before the front door's opening heralded Spike and Andrew's return.

"We're back!" Andrew called out. He and the vampire entered the kitchen.

"Hi, everybody. I missed you guys a lot." Andrew set his football helmet down on the counter and hurried to grab a package of snack pastries from a cupboard. "Sorry it took so long for us to get back from our mission, uh, mission, but we had to wait out the sun. Uh, I think our mission went very well." He crammed a pastry into his mouth and continued to yammer as he chewed, "We, uh, we rode on Spike's hog, which was very cool, and played some amusing games. And uh—Oh! We got some information." He paused. "You know what? I really need to urinate." And with that, Andrew abruptly left for the bathroom.

"He's a breath of fresh air, isn't he?" Spike drawled, "Thank god I don't breathe. So, I think we got a lead." He addressed this last statement to Buffy. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"Um," Dawn bit her lip, "Buffy's not the leader anymore."

The peroxided vampire blinked. "What?"

"Uh..." Willow glanced at Buffy. Seeing that the Slayer made no move to speak up, the redhead ventured to explain, "While you were gone, we all got together and, uh, talked out some disagreements that we were having. A-And eventually, after much discussion, Buffy decided that it would be best for all of us if she...took a little time off. A little breather." Willow flashed a hopeful smile.

Spike regarded her with a blank expression. "Uh-huh. I see. Been practicing that little speech long, have you?"

The redhead winced and stepped back to rejoin the others.

"So, uh, Buffy took some time off right in the middle of the _apocalypse_, and it was her decision," Spike's tone was sardonic.

"Well, we all decided," Xander said, though this was not entirely accurate. It was a majority vote, but he and the other Scoobies stood by the decision, even if they didn't agree with it.

"Oh, yeah, _you_ all decided." Spike let out a bitter laugh. "You sad, sad, ungrateful traitors. Who do you think you are?"

"We're her friends," Willow protested, "We just wanted—"

"Oh, that's ballsy of you!" the vampire snapped, "You're her _friends_ and you betray her like this."

"Spike," Buffy murmured.

"You don't understand," Giles tried to explain. But the enraged vampire wasn't willing to listen.

"You know, I think I do, _Rupert_," he sneered, "You used to be the big man, didn't you? The teacher, all full of wisdom. Now she's surpassed you, and you can't handle it."

"Spike," Buffy said again, a little louder.

"She has saved your lives again and again," he ranted, "She's _died_ for you, and this is how you thank her!"

"Hey!" Faith marched up to him, "Why don't you take it down a notch or two. The time for speech-giving is over, bad boy."

Spike crossed his arms and took a step closer until they stood toe to toe, his expression deceptively calm. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right," the Slayer retorted, "Save your lack of breath."

"Alright." Spike abruptly backhanded her.

Faith caught herself against the breakfast bar, slowly turned to face him with a dangerous grin. "You're pretty sweet on her, aren't you?" She kicked out, her boot connecting with Spike's face. "I think it's cute..."

Spike punched her. She punched him right back. "...the way she's got you whipped."

Faith kicked the vampire hard in the chest, sending him flying into the dining room. Spike slid across the table, sending the fruit bowl crashing to the floor a second before he tumbled after it.

"Enough!" Giles shouted, to no avail. Faith and Spike were both too worked up at this point to voluntarily stop.

Faith rounded the table and rained several hard blows down on Spike before he could pick himself up. He knocked her back with a hit to the chest and leapt to his feet.

"Finally got what you wanted, didn't you?" he snarled. He blocked Faith's next swing and punched her in the jaw. As he drew back his fist to hit her again, someone grabbed his wrist. Spike whipped around, ready to tear into whoever dared interfere, when his eyes met Buffy's pleading gaze.

No words were said, but everyone who watched them got the impression that there was some kind of silent exchange between them. Then Spike took Buffy's unresisting hand in his and headed for the front door. He flung one last condemning scowl at the others, then he and Buffy left the house. The door slammed shut behind them.

* * *

Spike wasn't sure how long he stormed down the abandoned street. All he thought about, beyond the boiling rage, was getting as far away from those sodding traitors as possible. Buffy didn't utter a word of protest at the anger-fueled pace he set or his tight grip on her hand. She followed him meekly, which only enraged him further. Those fickle bastards had broken his Slayer's spirit with their betrayal.

Realizing they couldn't march forever, Spike picked a random house and headed for it. Its front door was ajar. Small items were scattered here and there on the floor, dropped in the owners' haste to get away. Spike's night-attuned eyes searched for any signs of danger before he shut the door and led Buffy further into the house. It was a single-story, the master bedroom located down a short hallway. The bed itself was neatly made. Spike gently urged Buffy to sit down on it, then left the room to rummage for some candles or something. He wound up finding something better; a hurricane lantern. He lit it with his trusty Zippo and returned to the bedroom, setting the lamp down on the nightstand. Only then did something occur to him and he snorted in amusement. Buffy gave him a curious look.

"Do you realize I could just walk in here? No invite needed?" he shook his head in wry humor, "This town really is theirs, now, isn't it?"

"Looks like it." Buffy reached up and gently touched a fresh bruise on his cheek.

The vampire's features twisted in anger as he remembered the earlier fight. "That bitch," he spat, "She's all about smiles and reformation when you're on your feet. But the moment you're down, she's all about the kicking, isn't that right? You say the word, and she's a footnote in history. I'll make it look like a painful accident."

Buffy's eyes lowered. "It wasn't just Faith. The Potentials, Wood, Anya... And it's not like they were wrong. I failed them."

Spike vehemently shook his head. He wouldn't believe that. It wasn't Buffy's fault; there was no way anyone could've guessed at Caleb's inhuman strength!

"This'll change your tune," he declared, an eager grin on his lips, "You were right. Caleb _is_ trying to protect something from you. And I think you were spot-on all the way. I think it's at the vineyard."

Buffy didn't react to the news the way he'd hoped. In fact, she didn't react at all.

"So?" he prompted, "You were right. Buffy?"

"I don't feel very right," she said in a small voice.

Spike knelt in front of her. He gently took her hands in his. "You're not a quitter, Buffy. You lost the leadership, but you can get it back.

"Can? Maybe. Should?" She freed one of her hands to rub at her stinging eyes. "I'm just so tired."

"You listen to me," Spike admonished, squeezing her hands for emphasis. His voice was filled with unwavering certainty as he told her, "I've been alive a bit longer than you. And dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine. And done things I prefer you didn't. Don't exactly have a reputation for bein' a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain." His mouth quirked in a rueful smirk. "So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred-plus years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of. You."

Buffy turned her head away. The way he looked at her was just too painful.

Spike reached up and gently took hold of her chin, turning her back to him. "Hey, look at me. When I say I love you, it's not because I want you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are. What you do. How you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman," he smiled tenderly, "You're the One, Buffy."

Tears rolled down Buffy's cheeks. It wasn't just his heartfelt words that moved her; it was also the emotions she felt from him. Spike meant every word. There were no doubts, no uncertainties, no delusions or wishful thoughts. He wasn't just trying to make her feel better. He truly believed everything he said.

"I don't wanna be the One," Buffy choked.

Spike smiled, shrugged. "I don't wanna be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear."

Buffy laughed in spite of herself. Pleased by this, Spike leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He then straightened and encouraged her to lie back on the bed. "You get some rest, now. Tomorrow, we'll figure out what we're gonna do."

Buffy reached out to him. "Will you just hold me? Please?"

"As if you have to ask." Spike toed off his boots and climbed into the bed with her. Buffy snuggled against him, her head tucked under his chin. After a while, her breathing slowed until she was sound asleep. Spike stroked her hair, sent soothing thoughts to her through the link. Funny, he mused, in the months since they'd Claimed each other, he'd never felt closer to her than he did at that moment. He pressed a loving kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

Buffy woke hours later to find Spike fast asleep, his head resting on her shoulder. Probably listening to her heartbeat. Buffy smiled and ran her fingers through his short white-blonde hair. She'd never felt more grateful for him than she did right then. Buffy had let herself sink into despair, thinking she'd failed as a leader and a Slayer, believing she wasn't good enough to defeat Caleb and the First. But Spike wouldn't let her wallow in self-pity. He dragged her out of her dark mood with his love and faith in her. Now she had to prove to herself she deserved his unshakeable loyalty.

Caleb was protecting something at the vineyard. Something he was desperate to keep away from her. He was stronger than her, but Buffy had defeated stronger opponents before. She'd fallen into the same pitfall as her enemy, thinking that brute strength was the answer. No, an all out attack wasn't the way to go if she wanted to best Caleb. Buffy would have to resort to cleverness instead.

Buffy shook the vampire awake. "Spike."

"Hey." He stretched and rubbed his eyes. "It's not sunrise yet, luv."

"I know. If we're gonna get where we need to without you burning up, we have to go now."

Spike sat up and regarded her curiously. He sensed the change in her. She wasn't bogged down by despair anymore. "Where are we going?"

"The vineyard," Buffy replied, smiling, "We're gonna take whatever Caleb's protecting over there. Just the two of us."

It was crazy. Reckless. Suicidal. Spike grinned. "Well, what're we waitin' for?"

* * *

It was getting dangerously close to dawn by the time they reached the vineyard. Spike didn't worry. The woods would provide enough shade 'til they reached the town's outskirts and made a mad dash for the nearest sewer access. Spike's building resistance to sunlight should help out as well.

Buffy and Spike barged into the monastery-turned-winery. They caught the two Bringers standing guard by surprise and easily took them out. The Bringer Buffy killed went tumbling down the stairs into the cellar, heralding her arrival to Caleb. Spike kept out of sight while Buffy descended the steps.

"Hey!" she greeted the startled preacher, "Heard you got something of mine."

Caleb grinned. "Well, if it ain't the Prodigal Slayer!"

Buffy strode casually among the wine casks, careful to maintain some distance between her and Caleb. "Where's it at?" she asked without much concern, "Well, I'm gonna find it, sooner or later."

As she'd hoped, Caleb's gaze followed her as she walked around the cellar. Pretty soon the preacher's back was turned to the stairs. At Buffy's mental cue, Spike hurried down the steps, silent as a cat, and began searching for any sign of whatever Caleb was hiding while Buffy kept him distracted.

"No, you're not," Caleb retorted, unaware of the vampire's presence, "I lay one hand on you, and you're just a dead little girl."

Buffy's shoulders rose in a careless shrug. "Lay a hand on me," she dared him, "If you can."

She ducked his first powerful swing with ease, then somersaulted over him as he struggled to regain his balance. Caleb was stronger than her, no question, but Buffy was far more agile. He couldn't hurt her if he couldn't catch her.

Buffy ran and the preacher gave chase. She leapt onto a stack of barrels and trotted across them, jumping away as Caleb hurled himself after her. The preacher crashed into the barrels, sending wine splashing across the floor.

Meanwhile, Spike discovered a trapdoor behind another stack of barrels. A subbasement? He opened it up and peered inside, saw rough dirt walls and the flicker of torchlight below. Spike jumped in, landed lightly on his feet. The handful of Bringers in the underground chamber spun around at his unexpected arrival and immediately charged at him, weapons drawn. Spike snapped the neck of the first Bringer and grabbed the man's knife for himself. He slashed the next Bringer's throat, stabbed another in the chest, losing the knife in the process. The last Bringer slashed at him. Spike jumped back, grabbed the hooded man's wrist, and twisted until the blade fell from his numb grasp. The vampire then slammed the Bringer's head into the wall over and over until the lifeless body fell to the ground.

"Well, that was fun." Spike made his way deeper into the chamber. He didn't have to go far before he found what he was looking for. The Bringers had hewn away at the bedrock until they'd left behind a single large boulder standing like a platform. Embedded in the top of this boulder was a large chunk of smooth obsidian. And embedded in the obsidian was the blade of an axe-like weapon. Spike knew this weapon. He'd seen its drawing in Michael Poole's book. He even remembered the caption written beneath it: Scythe. The weapon gleamed like it was brand new, its blade bright red, and part of it curved upward at a point, so it could be used to stab as well as hack. Its long handle tapered off into a wooden shaft sharpened to a fine point. It was beautiful. And it was his.

Meanwhile, Buffy continued to evade all of Caleb's attempts to strike her. To an observer it would've been like watching a large dog chasing after a squirrel. He just couldn't keep up with her. And it didn't help that Caleb was losing his temper. Anger made him even clumsier.

"You whore!" he shouted.

Buffy paused and turned to face him. "You know, you really should watch your language. If someone didn't know you, they might think you were a woman-hating jerk."

As Caleb lunged at her, Buffy felt Spike's signal, telling her he'd found whatever it was they were looking for. She saw the trapdoor beside an unsteady stack of barrels. She ducked under Caleb's wildly swung fist, then dove headfirst through the trapdoor. Her foot kicked the barrels in passing, causing them to topple onto the trapdoor and slam it shut behind her. She heard more barrels fall on top of it, but she knew that wouldn't keep the preacher out for long. It only bought her and Spike a little time.

Buffy tucked and rolled as she landed on the hard stone floor, then hopped to her feet. She saw Spike standing with his back to her. The vampire was riveted by whatever he was staring at. She could feel his awe. Buffy walked past the bodies of the Bringers he killed and moved to stand beside him. Her eyes widened when she saw the weapon. The Scythe. She more than saw it, though. She _felt _it. It was ancient and powerful. And it was hers.

"You feel it, too," Spike murmured. It wasn't a question.

Buffy nodded, too enthralled to speak. A triumphant smile worked its way across her face. She was right, just as Spike knew she was. Without tearing her gaze from the Scythe, she reached out to her side and gripped Spike's hand in hers.


	22. Chapter 22: End Of Days

**A/N:** Second to last chapter here! Epic smackdown with Caleb included. Enjoy! :-D

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I'm gettin' ready for the end to come_

_That final hour it all comes undone_

_An' she drops the bomb_

_An' says she ain't my girl_

_I'm getting' ready_

_Ready for the end of the world_

-George Strait, "Ready For The End Of The World"

The Slayer and her vampire stared entranced at the gleaming weapon. They hardly even reacted when the trapdoor slammed open and Caleb stormed into the chamber.

"So, you found it," he declared matter-of-factly, "Not impressed. 'Cause the question now, girly-girl, is can you pry it from solid rock before I come over there and—"

In a single, casual move, Buffy reached over and pulled the Scythe free. The stone it was embedded in—which had given the false preacher and his Bringers so much trouble—didn't offer the slightest resistance. The Scythe knew it was meant for her.

Caleb sputtered in shock, his usual arrogance deflated at the sight of the petite woman brandishing the weapon. "Darn."

Spike grinned. Seeing the preacher so discomfited was very gratifying.

Caleb slowly raised a hand in warning. "Now, before you go hurtin' yourself with that thing, why don't you do yourself a courtesy and hand it over now?"

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? You want it?" She raised the blade as if she might take a swing at him.

Caleb recoiled. "You don't even know what you got there."

"You're backin' away from it, though, ain't ya?" Spike retorted, signature cocky grin in place.

The preacher scowled at the couple. "You think wieldin' some two-sided doodad's gonna make a difference?"

"Let her go, Caleb," a woman's voice spoke from the shadows.

The preacher didn't move. "I let her go, she slices me open with that thing."

"No, she doesn't," a figure stepped out into the torchlight, "She hasn't got time. She has friends, and her friends are in trouble." She smirked at the Slayer. "Faith go boom."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Amy."

Beside her, Spike let out a low growl.

"Not quite." The witch flung out a hand. It passed right through Caleb's shoulder. "Poor Amy outlived her usefulness. Every time she tried to curse your happy little household, your lesbian pals always managed to counter them before they could do any damage." The first noticed the surprise on the Slayer's face and laughed. "You didn't know? Guess they didn't want you to worry."

"Ding-dong the witch is dead," Spike quipped, "Can't say I'm sorry to hear it."

"You should," the First sneered, "Caleb slit her throat right over the Seal of Danzalthar. Her blood was almost as weak as Jonathan's, but it got the job done. Gave us a couple of playmates to pick off the rest of Faith's merry band." Not-Amy's face twisted in a parody of concern. "Gee. You'd better hurry. You might be able to save a _few_ of those girls."

"I'm not lettin' 'em out of here with that thing," Caleb declared, fists clenched at his sides.

The First gave him a dismissive look. "Sure you are. Then you'll come back for it later...when they've got their backs turned."

It obviously grated on the preacher, but he made no move to attack as the wary couple darted past him and disappeared up through the trapdoor.

There was a hint of light on the horizon; sunrise was approaching. Buffy and Spike raced through the woods until they reached the outskirts of down. Spike yanked open the nearest manhole cover and the two of them dove into the sewers.

"Where the bloody hell would Faith have taken the girls?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged, frustrated. "I don't know. We left before they worked out their plan. They could be anywhere." Her eyes lit up with an idea. She dug through her pockets until she produced her cellphone. She flipped the device open and checked the screen for a signal. "Come on," she growled, climbing up the ladder to stick her upper half through the open manhole. She grinned in triumph; the cell towers were still apparently working. Buffy quickly called the house and spoke to Giles. The Watcher filled her in on the plan that had been worked out in her absence. The Bringer they'd abducted had mentioned something about an underground armory. Faith and some of the Potentials went to investigate, but they hadn't returned yet and the others were getting worried.

After getting directions to the underground chamber where they thought the armory might be located, Buffy hung up and descended the ladder once again. She and Spike ran through the maze of tunnels, hoping they weren't too late.

Spike heard the distant sounds of girls screaming in terror, and the distinctive snarls of at least two Turok-Han. The vampire skidded to a halt beside some kind of access hatch leading to another tunnel or chamber further below. "Here!"

There was no time for finesse. Buffy and Spike both slammed the heels of their boots against the door until the whole thing broke loose from its frame and crashed to the floor below. Buffy leapt through the opening, Scythe at the ready. She saw the Potentials clustered together, facing three Turok-Han. One of the creatures had Kennedy by the throat, but on seeing the Slayer, immediately tossed the girl aside like she was nothing.

Two of the übervamps came at Buffy from either side. She spun, the blade of the Scythe beheading one Turok-Han, the tapered wooden handle staking the other. Buffy couldn't believe the sense of power the weapon gave her. Where before she couldn't even penetrate the creatures' armored chests, the Scythe's handle punched through with hardly any effort.

As the first two opponents dusted, the third übervamp grabbed Buffy from behind. The Scythe slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She managed to kick loose from the creature's grasp just as Spike dropped down through the hatchway and snatched up the fallen weapon. With a single powerful swing, the blade sliced through the last Turok-Han's neck and the monster dusted.

Spike grinned and handed the Scythe back to Buffy. The two of them turned to face the girls' stunned faces. They were filthy, some of them bleeding. Two of them were supporting an unconscious Faith between them. It looked and smelled as if a bomb had gone off in the chamber.

"Get the wounded," Buffy commanded, "We're leaving."

"Are there more?" an anxious Kennedy asked.

"There's always more," Spike muttered darkly. "Let's move."

The surviving Potentials were all too happy to obey.

They couldn't go to the hospital. The doctors and nurses had run off with the rest of the town.

The wounded were laid out in rows on the living room floor, the most serious cases seen to first. Every first-aid kit in the house was used, and when they ran out of ordinary bandages and antiseptic, bedsheets and whiskey were put to use. The situation reminded Buffy of some old war movie, wounded soldiers toted into haphazard tent clinics to be patched up by harried surgeons. But at least those guys knew what they were doing, more or less.

"Wil, come here," Buffy called out, crouched beside one of the injured girls, "She's losing a lot of blood."

"Got it," Willow hurried over and pressed a makeshift bandage to the girl's wound.

Buffy got up, saw Giles and Xander bringing Faith in through the front door, and hurried over. "The room upstairs is ready for her."

"Good. I hope we're in time," Giles muttered as he and Xander carried the unconscious Slayer up the steps.

"Is she okay?" a frightened Amanda hovered nearby, "Is she gonna be okay?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Kennedy tried to reassure her, then gave Buffy an uncertain look, "Right? You guys heal fast, right? You Slayers?"

"Yeah." Buffy somehow dug up a mostly complete first-aid kit and hurried for the stairs.

"So...she'll be okay?"

Buffy hesitated on the first step. "I don't know."

"What's with the axe thing?" a girl named Caridad suddenly asked.

Buffy looked in surprise at the Scythe still clutched in her free hand. In all the excitement, she'd forgotten she still had it. "I took it from Caleb."

"Yeah, at the _vineyard,_" Spike couldn't help but snark from where he was patching up another injured girl.

The Potentials who weren't distracted by pain were shamed by his words.

"I think we got punished," Amanda whispered meekly.

Buffy blinked. "What?"

"We, uh... We followed her," Kennedy stammered uncertainly, "and it was—"

"It didn't work out," Vi said.

Spike rolled his eyes. The little bints were doing the same thing they'd done to Buffy; laying all the blame on Faith when things went south. Never mind that those were they risks they took when they went into battle, no matter who led them.

"You guys, it was a trap," Buffy said with a lot more patience than Spike would have, "It's not her fault. It could've just as easily happened to me."

"So, are you..." Caridad hesitated, "Are you, like, back?"

Buffy shared a look with Spike. "I don't know," she sighed, "I guess we're not leaving."

"So, we got a plan now, or anything?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah, there's a plan," Spike answered in a wry tone, "Get ready. Time's up."

Buffy hurried upstairs to help with Faith while Spike continued to take care of the girls with the rest of the Scoobies. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally got the worst cases stabilized, at least for the time being. Andrew surprised everyone when he volunteered to go loot the hospital for abandoned medical supplies, and Anya agreed to go with him. They came back a while later with medicines, painkillers, bandages, and sutures. Everything they needed to ensure they didn't lose anyone else. This time, anyway.

When things finally quieted down, Buffy called a small meeting with Willow, Tara, and Giles in the witches' room. Spike joined in as well, leaning against the door frame and adding in the occasional detail when Buffy told her friends how they got the weapon from Caleb.

"It's just like the drawing in the book," Buffy said, indicating Michael Poole's text sitting on top of a pile of research material, "The Scythe."

"Can you tell us anything about it?" Giles asked.

Buffy shook her head. "The only thing I know for sure is it made Caleb back off in a hurry."

She let Giles handle the weapon. He examined it for a moment, then gave the blade an experimental swing, a delighted smile on his face. "This is really quite ingenious."

"Kills strong bodies three ways," Spike agreed, "Know I'd back off in a bloody hurry if somebody came at me with one of those."

"A-And you say you sense something when you hold it?" Tara asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Not much. But it's strong, and I knew it belonged to me. I just _knew_ it."

Giles looked at the vampire. "Do you feel anything as well?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Same as Buffy. I just look at it and I know it's mine."

The Watcher gazed curiously at the weapon cradled in his hands. "In addition to being ancient, it's clearly mystical."

"Yeah, I figured that one out when I King Arthur-ed it out of the stone," Buffy observed drily.

"So, maybe it's like some kind of traditional Slayer weapon," Willow theorized.

"Then how come I'm sensin' it, too?" Spike wondered, frowning.

Tara ventured a guess, "M-Maybe it has something to do with the Claim."

"There's still so much we don't know," Giles lamented, "I can't imagine how something like this could exist without—without my having heard of it."

"I've noticed the good guys aren't traditionally known for their communication skills," Spike declared with a sardonic twist of his mouth.

"Right," Giles sighed, leaned the Scythe against the side of the bed, "Um, any chance that it might be something other than a tool for killing things?"

"The First's guys clearly wanted it out of that stone," Buffy replied, "It's not just a tool. It's important. We need to find out whatever we can. Who made it, when, why. Does it have a name? I don't know, a credit report? Just find out fast."

"We'll start work immediately," Giles assured her. He and Tara reached for the books while Willow went to switch on her laptop. Lucky for them, the landlines still worked, so she was able to go online. She just hoped the battery lasted until they found something useful.

"Don't worry, Buffy," Tara managed a semi-confident smile, "We'll find out everything there is to know."

"Good. Because right now," she nodded towards the Scythe, "that thing's all we got goin' for us."

* * *

Buffy made the unpleasant discovery that the lack of electricity meant no more hot water. She wound up taking the quickest shower in history before she changed into some fresh clothes. Spike did the same, though not as fast; cold water didn't bother him.

He stood behind Buffy while she brushed out her drying hair. "Mind tellin' me what you've been mulling over for the last half-hour, pet?"

Buffy glanced at the spot on the mirror where she guessed Spike's reflection would've been, if he actually had a reflection. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and tied it in place with a black scrunchie. "Dawn."

Spike tensed at the mention of the Little Bit. The war with the First was rapidly coming to a head. People were going to die. The thought that one of those people might be Dawn...

"She'll never agree to leave."

"I know." Buffy turned to face him. Her expression was somber. "We won't get a chance to say goodbye."

Spike understood. Buffy was going to make sure her sister was safely away from Sunnydale, whatever it took. Knowing the teen's stubbornness, this meant resorting to some pretty underhanded measures. But Buffy would rather have Dawn alive and pissed off at her than dead.

"Guess you got a plan worked out." Spike rested his hands on her shoulders.

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice. She closed her eyes as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Without another word, she left the room in search of Xander. She found him in the kitchen, which was good, since nobody else was in that room. It gave her the chance to relate her plan in relative privacy.

"You got it?"

Xander gawked at her, his remaining eye wide with astonishment. "Wait. I'm not to the 'got it' place, yet. I'm still in the neighborhood of 'You've gotta be kidding.'"

"You know it's for the good," she reasoned gently.

"I _don't_," Xander argued, "Buffy, do you get that? If I do this, that's it for me for this fight. I feel like you're puttin' me out to pasture." He stared at her, almost pleading. "I got hurt, but I'm not done. I can still fight."

"I know. That's why I need you to do this," Buffy explained, "Xander, I need someone that I can count on, no matter what happens."

Xander sighed, shoulders slumping. They both knew he would give in to her wishes in the end. He uttered on last half-hearted protest, "I should be at your side"

"You will be," Buffy smiled softly, "You're my strength, Xander. You're the reason I made it this far. I trust you with my life. So I need you to do this for me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Xander nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Faith was finally awake when Buffy checked in on her. The Scythe was once again in Buffy's possession, Giles, Tara, and Willow having scraped together what little information their research could glean on the weapon.

"You're back," Faith mumbled, still half-groggy.

"So are you." Buffy approached the bed. Faith noticed the weapon in her hand and arched an eyebrow. "What you got there, B?"

The blonde woman held it up so she could see it better. "Took it off Caleb at the vineyard."

A sardonic grin tugged at Faith's lips. "So, you were right the whole time."

Buffy held the Scythe out to her. "Take it."

Curious, the other Slayer accepted the weapon. Surprise flashed across her expression as her hands tightened their grip on the handle. She closed her eyes, absorbing the strange sensations.

"You feel it, too, don't you?" Buffy didn't really need to ask. She could tell.

"Damn," Faith's eyes fluttered open, "And _damn,_ that's somethin'. It's old. It's strong, and it feels like—like it's mine." She looked at Buffy and the excitement drained from her face. She carelessly dropped the Scythe beside her on the mattress. "I guess that means it's yours."

"It belongs to the Slayer." And, apparently, the Slayer's Intended, but she wasn't ready to go into that with Faith just yet.

"The Slayer in charge," Faith countered, "which I'm guessing is you."

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand resting beside the Scythe. "What happened down there wasn't your fault."

"I'm really not lookin' for forgiveness," Faith muttered, not meeting her eyes, "I blew it."

"You didn't blow it."

"Tell that to—"

"People die," Buffy interrupted, "You lead them into battle, they're gonna die. It doesn't matter how ready you are or how smart you are. War is about death. Needless, stupid death."

Faith pondered this for a moment. She shifted in the bed as a thought occurred. "So...here's the laugh riot. My whole life, I've been a loner. No ties. No buddies. No relationships that lasted longer than— Well, Robin lasted pretty long," she grinned, "Boy's got stamina."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Principal Wood? And you? And in my..." She jumped up from the bed, the look on her face a mixture of astonishment and horror.

Faith smirked at the Slayer's reaction. "Don't tell me you two got wriggly?"

"_No!_ No. No, no. We're just friends. Or mortal enemies, depending on which day of the—" She stopped herself from digressing and tried to force the conversation back on track, "Was that the funny part?"

"Okay, the point. Me, by myself all the time, and lookin' at you, everything you have...and, I don't know, jealous," she shrugged, "And then there I am. Everybody's lookin' to me, trustin' me to lead them, and I've never felt so alone in my entire life." She gazed at the petite blonde in a new light. "And that's you every day, isn't it?"

Buffy's smile was tinged with regret. "I love my friends. I'm very grateful for them. But that's the price of being a Slayer."

"Guess bein' a Slayer's a burden we can't ever share," Faith mused, "And no one else can feel it." A thoughtful pause, then she added, "Thank god we're hot chicks with superpowers."

Buffy laughed, then she stared at the other Slayer, considering. Finally, she pulled a slim book from her jacket pocket and dropped it on Faith's lap.

"What's this?" Faith picked the book up, flipped through a couple of pages in curiosity.

"It was written by a Watcher named Michael Poole," Buffy explained, "The Council tried to have it destroyed a hundred years ago. This is the last copy."

Intrigued, Faith asked, "What's the deal with this book that the Council wanted it gone?"

Buffy smiled and headed for the door, tossing over her shoulder, "Read it and find out."

Faith stared at the doorway moments after Buffy was gone from her sight, then she turned to the first page of the book and proceeded to read.

* * *

Spike had made a run to the butcher's, having not had a chance to feed all day, what with the aftermath and the triage. Luckily, the butcher's walk-in freezer was insulated well enough that the blood he found inside hadn't gone off, even without electricity. Spike chugged down as much tepid pig's blood as he could hold without making himself sleepy, then headed for home. Along the way, he saw Xander drive past with Dawn in the passenger seat. The girl's head lolled, clearly unconscious. Spike didn't envy Xander having to deal with the teen when she woke up and realized she was being kidnapped for her own safety. Dawn was a real terror when she was pissed off enough.

Xander met Spike's gaze and nodded in passing. Spike nodded back, watching the taillights fade into the distance, then he continued on his way.

He came through the front door just as Buffy descended from the second floor.

"Honey, I'm home," Spike joked.

"We've got work to do," Buffy stated without preamble.

The vampire raised a scarred eyebrow. "Another solo mission, is it?" he frowned, "Or 'duo mission'? Big secret mission, anyway."

"It's not a secret. Well, it _is_, but that's the point of the mission; find out the secret," she hefted the Scythe, "This thing was forged by...we don't even know. I mean, something about a tomb on unconsecrated ground. That's what we have to do. Find out what this is and why we have it."

"Well, no time like the present." Spike reached for the doorknob.

Buffy placed a hand on his arm, staying him. "Spike...about last night," she licked her lips, searching for the right words. She lifted the Scythe for emphasis. "This might be the key to everything. And the reason I'm holding it...is because of you," she smiled, "Because of the strength that you gave me last night." Her gaze was full of gratitude, but also thankfulness that he was in her life, always there for her when she needed his support the most.

Spike slowly turned from the door so that he was facing her again. His expression was at once tender and wistful. "Last night was... It was the best night of my life. I've lived for soddin' ever, Buffy. I've done everything. I've done things with you I can't spell," he smirked, then let it fade into a tiny smile, "But...I've never...been _close_ to anyone, except you." He uttered a slightly self-conscious laugh, "Thought I couldn't possibly get any closer to you. But last night...all I did was hold you, watch you sleep...and it was the best night of my life."

Touched by his heartfelt confession, Buffy reached up with the hand that wasn't holding the Scythe and rested her palm against his cheek. Spike placed his hand over hers, leaned into her touch, then turned and lightly kissed her palm before gently withdrawing. He turned, opened the front door. "Let's go be heroes."

Buffy nodded and walked with him out into the night.

It didn't take long to find what they were looking for. There weren't that many tombs on unconsecrated ground that bore a paganistic flair. In fact, they could only think of one that fit that description.

"I must've passed by this thing a million times on patrol," Buffy mused as they approached the small pyramid. It stood just outside the fence of the cemetery, partially obscured by the surrounding trees. It was obviously neglected, covered in dead vines, dead leaves and accumulated dirt in all its cracks and crevices.

Spike shook his head and huffed a wry chuckle. "Always thought it belonged to some rich ponce with a delusion that he was the reincarnation of King Tut or some rubbish."

"Who would've figured the pagan-looking tomb was actually a pagan tomb?" Buffy gave a philosophical shrug.

The couple approached the weathered structure. When they reached the door, Buffy decided to forgo subtlety and simply kicked it in. The door broke free of its frame and skidded down the steps leading into the tomb's interior. Spike and Buffy entered warily. The tomb was much bigger than they expected, since much of it was actually underground. There were ancient bits of pottery, urns, and statues, all coated in a thick layer of dust. Gauzy curtains, tattered and frayed with age, blocked their view of the back part of the interior. The only hint that there might actually be someone there was the fact that several lamps had been lit.

A feminine voice emerged from the curtained-off area, "I'd forgotten."

The couple tensed. A pair of hands parted the curtains and a woman stepped into view. Her hair was long and white, her skin pale gray. She wore long, formerly sumptuous robes, their once vibrant colors now only a memory. The look on her face could only be described as benevolent. "I'd forgotten how young you would be. It comes from the waiting. The mind plays tricks." She glanced at the Scythe. "I see you've found our weapon."

"Who are you?" Buffy asked, unsure.

"One of many. Well," the woman shrugged, "time was. Now, I'm alone in the world."

Spike gave her the once over. "So, what, you're some kind of ghost?"

The woman's smile was tinged with amusement. "Nope. I'm as real as you are. Just...well, let me put it this way; I look good for my age." She looked at Buffy, held her hands out. "I've been waiting."

Buffy didn't know why, but some instinct told her that she could trust this stranger. So she handed over the Scythe without much hesitation.

The white-haired woman gazed at the weapon in fondness. "You pulled it out of the rock. I was one of those who put it in there."

"What is it?"

"A weapon. A Scythe. Forged in secrecy for one like you who—" she paused, suddenly remembering her manners, "I'm sorry, what were your names?"

"Buffy," she pointed to herself, then gestured to the vampire, "And Spike."

The woman blinked. "No, really."

"What?" Spike challenged.

The woman sighed and moved along, "We forged it in secrecy, and kept it hidden from the Shadow Men, who—"

"Yeah, met those guys," Buffy wrinkled her nose in distaste, "Didn't really care too much for 'em."

"Ah, yes," the woman smiled knowingly, "Then you know. And they became the Watchers. And the Watchers watched the Slayers. But we were watching them."

"Oh, so you're like..." Spike frowned, "What the bloody hell are you?"

"Guardians. Servants of the First Good. Women who want to help and protect the Slayer." She held up the Scythe. "We forged this centuries ago, halfway around the world. Forged there, it was put to use right here, to kill the last pure demon that walked upon the earth. The rest were already driven under. And then there were men here, and then there were monks, and then there was a town, and now there was you. And the Scythe remained hidden."

Buffy shook her head, confused. "I don't understand. How is it possible that we didn't know any of this?"

"We hid, too. We had to, until now. We're the last surprise." The Guardian offered the Scythe back to her. "This is a powerful weapon."

Buffy took the Scythe, relieved to have it back. "It is."

"But you already have weapons."

"Oh." Buffy's shoulders slumped. She was right. The First still had the advantage of sheer numbers. One Slayer with one powerful weapon wasn't going to turn the tide.

"The Scythe is more than a symbol of death," the Guardian intoned, "It is also a symbol of life. It brings in the harvest so that the people can live for another year." The woman stared meaningfully. "The seeds have been sown in every Potential in your care. It is up to you to reap the harvest."

Spike let out a faint, impatient sound. What was it with these portentous sods and their cryptic code-speak? Why the hell couldn't they give a straight answer?

The woman turned her fathomless gaze on him. "You feel the Scythe's power, too."

The vampire nodded. "Yeah. Mind tellin' me what that's all about?"

"You are part of the Slayer, as she is part of you. It is all connected; Slayer, Intended, and Scythe." She turned back to Buffy. "Use the Scythe wisely, and perhaps you can beat back the rising dark. One way or another, it can only mean an end is truly near."

A pair of hands suddenly reached around from behind her and snapped the woman's neck with a single, brutal twist. The Guardian's lifeless body dropped to the floor, and a grinning Caleb stood in her place. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part on account of her neck snappin' and all. Did she say the end is _near?_" his smile widened, "Or _here_?"

Buffy swung the Scythe at him. He caught the handle easily before the blade could reach his neck.

"I'm gonna take such sweet pleasure in taming you," he whispered before his fist connected with her face.

Spike snarled and barreled into the preacher, knocking him back a step, enough for Buffy to yank the weapon from his grip and come at him again. Caleb dodged her and Spike's blows with almost ridiculous ease, and those that did strike him he easily shook off. An arrogant sneer twisted his face, his earlier reticence in facing off against the Scythe now gone.

"You're not slippin' out of this fight, girl." Caleb's fist punched through one of the support pillars a second after Buffy ducked his incoming fist. "Can't you see? You can't stop me. I can just keep goin' back for more. It's like bein' reborn."

He kicked Buffy in the stomach and sent her crashing into a wall, the Scythe falling from her grip. Caleb lifted her up by the collar of her jacket, punched her in the midsection, and let her drop again.

Spike grabbed the Scythe from the floor and brought its handle across Caleb's throat, dragging the preacher away from the out-of-breath Slayer. Caleb took hold of the weapon and twisted the two of them around so that their positions were reversed. Spike countered by flipping the preacher over his shoulders and Caleb landed face-up on the floor. Spike plunged the stake-end towards the preacher's head, but Caleb caught the handle, halting the point mere inches from his left eye. There was a momentary stalemate as both powerful beings struggled for dominance, but then Caleb kicked up and his shoe connected with the side of Spike's head. The vampire staggered, fell. Caleb jumped to his feet and kicked the vampire in the face. Spike fell back, stunned.

As Caleb reached for the fallen Scythe, Buffy leapt in and rained several rapid punches down on him. The preacher seemed more annoyed than anything. He grabbed her by the wrist as she took another swing at him and rammed his fist into her face, once, twice, the third time knocking her against a pillar and leaving her sprawled on the ground. He picked her up and swung her body into the pillar hard enough to knock several stone blocks out of place and leave the entire thing askew.

Buffy rolled on the floor, struggling to regain her feet. She saw Caleb pick up the Scythe and give it a playful twirl. "I was kinda hoping it would go this way," he grinned, raising the blade over his head to bring it down on the hapless Slayer.

"Hey!"

Caleb turned at the unexpected voice and received a punch to the jaw that sent him skidding several feet, losing the Scythe in the process.

Buffy gaped at the sight of Angel in all his glory, a cocky smile on his handsome face. She accepted his outstretched hand and let him help her to her feet.

"I was never much for preachers." He looked her over. "You look good."

"You look timely," Buffy grinned, then admitted, "And also good."

"Heard maybe you needed a hand," Angel told her, "I went by the house and Giles told me where you were."

"Well, now you can bloody well shove off," Spike staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his nose, "Slayer and I got this under control."

"Yeah, I can see that," Angel threw him a disdainful look. He turned to Buffy and asked in a low voice guaranteed to be overheard by the other vampire, "What's he doing here?"

Buffy's eyes darted between the two vampires, searching desperately for something to say that would avert the impending confrontation between her ex and her lover. "Um..."

An angry growl drew everyone's attention to Caleb, who was getting back up. Relieved by the interruption, Buffy halted Angel as he made a move towards the preacher. The dark-haired vampire smiled down at her. "Ah, it's one of those things you have to finish yourself."

"Really kinda is," Buffy agreed.

Angel obligingly stepped back and leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He looked at the enraged preacher and grinned. "You are so gonna lose."

Spike remained where he was, tense and ready to step in should Buffy need his help. But he knew she wanted to finish this alone. Wanted to show off for the ex, he thought bitterly. He hastily tamped those petty emotions down, not wanting them to distract her at a critical moment. They'd deal with the Angel issue after Buffy took care of the preacher.

Caleb stormed towards the Slayer as she readied her weapon. Buffy spun around, the Scythe's blade whirling. Caleb got hold of the handle and twisted it from her grasp. He struck her with the flat of the blade and she stumbled against the nearest wall. Caleb lunged, intending to skewer her with the stake-end. Buffy dodged at the last second and the tapered point penetrated the stone wall. She kicked the preacher away and yanked the Scythe free. Caleb swung at her, and that's when Buffy saw her opening. She ducked under his swinging arm and sliced the blade deep into his midriff, leaving a wide wound that threatened to spill his insides onto the floor. Caleb stared in dismay at this mortal injury, then he started to laugh. He waved a finger at Buffy as if he were scolding her, even as his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, motionless, eyes staring at nothing.

"See?" the Slayer beamed at her audience, "Under control."

Angel sauntered proudly over to her. "Well, at least you could tell me you're glad to see me."

And before Buffy could even react, Angel leaned down and planted a kiss on her lips.


	23. Chapter 23: Chosen

**A/N: **Well, the end is finally here! :-D Hope you all think it was worth the wait. I did a lot of tweaking on this last chapter.

Thanks to everyone who read, favorited, and followed this story. And a special shout out to everyone who reviewed: **Hercules8, RKF22, SlayerDaniWho, zoe, bowlingforvampires, SpaztasticalMaiden13, spike'smate, ginar369, mandigrrl, BabygirlandFin, mrs marsters, truedelenafire, randyzoopurple, mrs pratt, ericslover1, gottaloveva, San Juanita Eva, Caskett93, San Juanita Hermandez, 1katiemariee, ReginaSerpentes, SanHernandez, ElizabethTARDIS, BaDWolF89, Trainee Hero.** You guys rock!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

**Disclaimer: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.**

_I could change the world_

_I would be the sunlight in your universe_

_You would think my love was really something good_

_Baby, if I could change the world_

-Eric Clapton, "Change the World"

There was a roar of pure rage and Angel was violently yanked away from the startled Slayer and hurled across the room. Angel immediately jumped to his feet to find himself confronting a snarling, vamped-out Spike.

"Bloody wanker," the blonde vampire spat, "You stay the hell away from her! She's _mine!_"

He lunged at his grandsire and the two vampires' bodies collided with a collection of dusty urns, sending pieces of shattered crockery skittering across the floor.

"Spike!" Buffy tried to find a way to break up the fight, but the enraged vamps were so entangled, she was hard-pressed to discern one from the other in this situation. She was still waiting for some kind of an opening when a heavy cat statuette swung in seemingly from nowhere and bludgeoned the side of first Angel's head, then Spike's, and sent the two of them sprawling. Buffy jerked back in surprise to see Caleb standing before her. The mortally wounded preacher swayed on his feet, a black substance oozing from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

"Are you ready to finish this, bitch?" he rasped. He swung the statue at her before she could come up with a witty response. Buffy managed to dodge his first swing, but the backswing caught her by surprise and she staggered back from the impact.

"Okay," she huffed, "How many times do I have to kill you? Ballpark figure?"

"You understand nothing."

Buffy swung the Scythe at him. He caught the handle, punched her with his other hand, then he grabbed her by the front of her belt and lifted her over his head until her body mashed against the ceiling. He then abruptly let her drop and the impact caused the Scythe to slip from her grasp and go skidding across the floor. The preacher bent down to pick her up by the throat. "You think you have power over me?" he snarled.

Buffy pushed her arms up between his and knocked them away from her throat. She sent Caleb reeling with a flying spin-kick.

"Stupid girl!" the preacher growled, picking himself up just as Buffy snatched up the fallen Scythe, "You'll never stop me. You don't have the—"

Buffy's upward swing caught the preacher right in the crotch. She smirked at his bulging eyes. "Who does nowadays?"

With a powerful upthrust, the Scythe's blade tore through Caleb's body. Its neatly divided halves fell to either side with a cartoonish splat. Buffy grimaced, "Ew!"

The previously stunned vampires recovered themselves and stood. Spike moved to stand with Buffy while Angel glared around the room.

"Okay, now I'm pissed. Where is he?" Angel's gaze fell on the preacher's remains and his mouth fell open.

Buffy couldn't resist. "He had to split."

She and Spike shared a look, and the two of them began to snicker like a couple of mischievous kids. Angel stared at them, utterly baffled.

As soon as she was done indulging in her childishness, Buffy put a hand on Spike's arm to ensure he stayed beside her and turned to ask Angel what exactly he was doing here.

A deep frown marred Angel's broad forehead. He didn't like the intimacy he saw between her and Spike. "Not saving the damsel in distress, that's for sure," he replied, almost absently.

Buffy tried to lighten the moment, "Well, you know me. Not much with the damseling."

Angel decided to focus on the subject at hand, deal with the Spike issue later. "Got your share of distress, though."

"You heard?"

"I got coverage on the whole thing." He went to retrieve a portfolio from where he'd stashed it behind one of the pillars. Inside it were documents provided by Wolfram & Hart detailing the current happenings in Sunnydale, as well as a possible solution. "It's the First, right? The First Evil? The power that tried to convince me to kill myself?"

"Yeah. It's gotten a little more ambitious since then. It's raising an army." Buffy took the portfolio from Angel. "I'll have the guys go through that, see if there's anything new. Reliable source?"

Angel shook his head, his expression sardonic. "Not remotely."

Spike casually rested his arm around Buffy's shoulders. "Well, any port in an apocalypse," he drawled.

After throwing a quick glare at the other vampire, Angel drew something from his jacket pocket. "I, uh, brought somethin' else as well."

Buffy regarded the object he held up. It was a necklace of some kind with a large, gaudy gemstone. It looked like costume jewelry to her. Something her matronly grandmother would wear, maybe. "I can already tell you I have nothing that goes with that."

"It's not for you."

"Aw, Peaches!" Spike grinned, "You shouldn't have." He made to take the necklace, but Angel snatched it away.

"It's not for you, either!" the dark-haired vampire snapped.

"Spike," Buffy barely stifled a weary sigh, "Why don't you head back to the house? Let everybody know what we found out."

Spike quirked an eyebrow, realizing she just wanted to get some distance between him and Angel before things inevitably escalated into another smackdown. He was tempted to stick around anyway, mainly because he bloody well didn't want to leave her alone with Captain Forehead. But Buffy was silently pleading with him, and he couldn't refuse her, especially when he knew she was right. He _did_ need to get away from Angel.

Spike nodded and, just for good measure, leaned in for a kiss. It was briefer than he would've liked, but the glower on Angel's face was priceless.

Buffy watched the peroxide blonde saunter out of the tomb. Heaving a sigh, she turned her attention back to Angel. "Okay, this necklace thing. Explainy."

Angel gritted his teeth and once again forced himself to stick to the more important subject. "I don't know everything. It's very powerful and probably very dangerous. It bestows strength to the right person who wears it."

"And the right person is?"

"Someone ensouled, but stronger than human," he stated solemnly, "A champion. As in me."

"Or me," Buffy suggested.

"No," Angel instantly denied, "I don't know nearly enough about this to risk you wearing it. Besides, you got that real cool axe thing goin' for you." He pointed to the Scythe in her hand.

"So, you're gonna be with me in this?" she asked, sounding less than certain.

The vampire flashed his most charming grin. "Shoulder to shoulder. I'm yours."

Buffy pondered this for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

A puzzled frown appeared. "No, what?"

"No, you're not gonna be in this fight," the Slayer stated firmly.

"Why the hell not?" Angel blurted.

"Because, if I lose," Buffy explained, her tone urgent, "if this thing gets past Sunnydale, then it's days, maybe hours, before the rest of the world goes. I need a second front and I need you to run it."

Angel nodded, crossed his arms. "Okay. That's one reason. What's the other?"

Buffy frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Is it Spike?" he asked bluntly, "Is he your boyfriend?"

The petite blonde made an irritated noise and headed for the tomb's exit. "Is that your business?"

Angel followed at her heels. "You in love with him?" he called out as they stepped outside and started cutting through the cemetery.

Buffy didn't respond, but the stiff way she walked revealed her growing annoyance.

"Okay, maybe I'm out of line," Angel conceded, "but this is kind of a curve ball for me. I mean, we are talkin' about _Spike,_ here."

Buffy came to a halt and spun around. "It's different. _He's_ different," she paused, then forged ahead, "He has a soul now."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Angel blinked, blinked again, then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Oh, well... That's great," he muttered, "Everyone's got a soul now."

_Is he pouting?_ Buffy watched her ex in dismay.

"You know, I started it," Angel grumbled, "The whole 'having a soul.' Before it was all the cool new thing."

Buffy shook her head at the man's petulance. "Oh, my god! Are you twelve?"

"I'm gettin' the brush-off for Captain Peroxide! It doesn't necessarily bring out the champion in me," he protested.

"You're not getting the brush-off," Buffy countered, "We had our time, and it ended. What's between me and Spike has nothing to do with you."

Angel immediately pounced on the most telling detail, "So, there _is_ something between you two."

Buffy let out a frustrated laugh. "Yeah! Okay? Yes, there's something between us. I've moved on, Angel. Maybe you should try it."

"I get moving on," Angel argued, "But _Spike?_ What the hell are you thinking, Buffy?"

"I'm thinking," Buffy sighed, searching for the right words, "that he's in my heart."

Her ex snorted, "That'll end well."

He wandered over to a nearby tombstone and sat down on it. Buffy went to join him. "And what was the highlight of our relationship?" she asked, "When you broke up with me, or when I killed you? I'm well aware of my stellar history with guys. I always figured there was something wrong with me, y'know, because I couldn't make it work. But now I think maybe I wasn't supposed to."

Angel looked at her in sympathy. "Because you're the Slayer."

"Because..." she struggled for a way to make him understand, "Okay, I was cookie dough."

Angel's brow wrinkled.

"I wasn't done baking," Buffy soldiered on, "I wasn't finished becoming whoever the hell it is I was gonna turn out to be. I had to make it though this thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, and...then one day I turned around and realized I was ready. I'm cookies. And I realized I wasn't the right kind of cookie for you, after all. You thought you were getting, I dunno, wholesome oatmeal raisin, and it turns out I'm really chocolate chip."

Her former boyfriend didn't look too thrilled with the explanation. "So, instead, Spike's the one who gets to enjoy warm, delicious..." he winced, "Do I have to go with the cookie analogy?"

"A lot's happened since we stopped being together," Buffy told him, "We've both gone through changes. What I'm saying is, we're not the same people we used to be. Not even Spike."

Angel gazed at her, eyes sad and wistful. "Do you love him?"

The blonde woman nodded. "And he loves me."

"He bit you."

Buffy's hand went to the mark on her neck. "Well, I bit him back." Her smirk hinted there was more to it than she was telling him.

The vampire glowered. He slowly let out a long, unnecessary breath, nodded, then gave her a serious look. "If he hurts you in any way..."

"He won't," Buffy assured him, "But thanks for caring enough to threaten." She smiled.

Angel mustered a faint smile in return, then handed her the amulet. "I'll go start working on the second front. Make sure I don't have to use it."

With that, he stood and walked out into the night without a backwards glance. Buffy watched his familiar silhouette vanish into the dark, feeling only the slightest pang for what might have been. Then she headed for home.

* * *

An angry Dawn was waiting for her when she stepped through the front door. Considering the teen should have been miles from town by now, Buffy was more than a little startled. She glanced into the dining room and saw Xander sitting in a chair, looking a bit worse for wear. Anya stood behind him gently rubbing his shoulders.

Dawn got her attention by kicking her in the shin. "Ow," Buffy said, more startled than hurt.

"Dumbass," her sister growled.

Buffy turned to Xander for an explanation.

"Don't look at me," he groaned, "This is a Summers thing. It's all very violent."

Buffy saw the familiar stubbornness in her sister's stoic expression and resigned herself to the inevitable. "If you get killed, I'm telling."

The sisters walked into the dining room where the rest of the Scoobies were gathered.

"Did you find out anything about the Scythe?" Willow asked.

Buffy frowned. "Didn't Spike say anything?" She knew he was back; she sensed him nearby.

Willow shook her head. "No, he just stomped past us and went into the basement."

The Slayer rolled her eyes, then held up the Scythe. "Well, it slices, dices, and makes julienne preacher."

Giles tensed. "Caleb?"

"I cut him in half," Buffy answered matter-of-factly.

That news certainly lightened the mood.

"Hey, party in my eye socket, and everyone's invited!" Xander declared. At everyone's stares, he slumped and muttered, "Sometimes I shouldn't say words."

Anya patted his head in sympathy.

Buffy broke away from the group a little while later and went down into the basement to see Spike. She found the platinum blonde whaling on the punching bag. He stopped when he noticed her approach. "So, where's tall, dark, and forehead?"

"He's gone," she answered simply.

"Oh, just popped by for a quickie, then?"

"Good! Good," she sighed, "I haven't had quite enough jealous vampire crap for one night."

"He wears lifts, you know," Spike added childishly, walking over to where he'd draped his coat over the foot of the cot to dig out a pack of smokes.

Buffy paused beside the swaying punching bag and noticed a piece of paper taped to it. It had a simple cartoonish drawing of a vampire with X's for eyes and hair standing straight up; a caricature of Angel, apparently. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Y'know, one of these days, I'm just gonna put you two in a room and let you rassle it out."

"No problem at this end." Spike scowled when he discovered the pack was empty. He crumpled it and tossed it aside.

"Hmm," Buffy grinned at a thought, "There could be oil of some kind involved."

"Where's the trinket?" the vampire suddenly asked.

She blinked, thrown off by the change of subject. "The who-ket?"

"The pretty necklace your sweetie-bear gave you," he smirked, "The one with all the power. I believe it's mine now." He held out his hand for it.

Buffy glanced down at the amulet in her grasp. "How d'you figure?"

"Someone with a soul, but more than human," Spike paraphrased, "Angel meant to wear it. That means I'm the qualified party." His hand was still outstretched.

Buffy chewed her lip. "It's volatile."

"You'll be needing someone strong to bear it, then," he quirked an eyebrow, "You plannin' on givin' it to Andrew?"

After another moment's hesitation, Buffy came to a decision. "Angel said the amulet was meant to be worn by a champion." She approached the blonde vampire and placed the amulet into his open palm, gently closing his fingers around it.

An almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Been called a lot of things in my time."

Buffy glanced towards the cot, met his eyes. "Faith still has our room."

"Well," Spike grinned, "Least it's private down here."

Buffy went upstairs briefly to change into a pair of sleep pants and a cami. Spike merely kicked off his shoes. The cot was only a single, which meant they had to cozy up to lie in it together. This was fine with them, of course. They usually slept while cuddling anyway.

Spike fell asleep right away, the link quietly humming with his slumbering thoughts. Buffy dozed in his arms for a while, but her mind was in too much turmoil to relax. She finally gave up and rose from the bed, careful not to wake the vampire. Her bare toes curled on the cold basement floor as she padded quietly towards the row of windows set high up on the out-facing wall. Thanks to the lack of light pollution, she was able to gaze straight through the windows into the clearest night sky she'd ever seen. She never realized there were so many stars up there.

"Pretty, ain't it?" said a familiar southern drawl.

Buffy didn't turn, even when she saw the preacher's tall figure emerge from the darkness in her periphery. "You're not him."

"No, you killed him, right and proper," the First agreed, "Terrible loss. This man was my good right arm. Course, it don't pain me too much. Don't need an arm." It grinned. "Got an army."

"An army of vampires." Buffy's eyes widened in mock-terror. "However will I fight—"

"Every day our numbers swell," Not-Caleb interjected, "But then you do have an army of your own. Some thirty-odd pimply-faced girls, don't know the pointy end of a stake." It put on an exaggerated worried expression. "Maybe I should call this off!"

Buffy glared, determined not to let the malevolent being get to her. "You ever considered a cool name? I mean, since you're incorporeal and basically powerless. How 'bout the Taunter? Strikes fear in the heart of—"

"I will overrun this earth," the First proclaimed, "And when my army outnumbers the humans on this earth, the scales will tip, and I will be made flesh."

"Talk on," she challenged, "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why aren't you asleep in your dead lover's arms?"

Buffy's gaze unwillingly fell on Spike, sleeping peacefully.

"'Cause he can't help you," Not-Caleb continued, "Nor Faith. Nor your friends. Certainly not your wanna-slay brigade. None of those girlies will ever know real power unless you're dead. Now, you know the drill." The First transformed, and Buffy was suddenly looking at herself. "Into every generation, a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to—" Buffy's doppelganger cocked its head, "There's that word again. What you are. How you'll die. _Alone_." The creature smiled at the Slayer's lack of response. "Where's your snappy comeback?"

Buffy's gaze was faraway when she murmured, "You're right."

The First hmm-ed in thought. "Not your best."

Spike suddenly started thrashing in the cot. "I'm drowning in footwear!"

Startled by the outburst, Buffy turned to him. When she looked away a second later, the First was gone.

Spike sat up, blinking as the room came into focus. "Weird dream," he muttered. He noticed the petite blonde standing some distance away, seemingly lost in thought. "Buffy. Is there something wrong?"

"No. Yeah!" she looked at him, "I just realized something. Something that really never occurred to me before." She looked so amazed by this revelation, Spike wondered what it could be. A tentative smile made its way across Buffy's face. "We're gonna win."

* * *

First thing when morning arrived, Buffy called a meeting with the Scoobies and Faith. They all gathered in Buffy's room where she proceeded to tell them her idea. It made a weird sort of sense; all the little hints the First Good and the Guardian let drop. But it was the First Evil's words down in the basement that made it all click together.

The Scythe was more than just a weapon. It was connected to the Slayer, to _all_ Slayers. Even, she suspected, to the Potentials, though they weren't able to sense anything. Their powers were dormant, but with the Scythe as a key, Buffy believed their latent abilities could be awakened. All of them, all at once. An army of Slayers.

When Buffy finished her explanation, everyone was gobsmacked. Giles worded their reactions best when he cried, "Buffy, what you said, i-it flies in the face of everything we've ever—every _generation_ has ever done in the fight against evil!" Then his face split into a wide grin and he declared, "I think it's bloody brilliant."

Buffy was relieved to have them all on board, including Willow, who was more than a little ambivalent about her role in the plan. But the witch was the linchpin to the whole endeavor; without her, they couldn't get it done. So they researched, and they prepared, and by day's end, they finally decided they were as ready as they'd ever be.

They and all the Potentials convened in the overcrowded living room. Many of the girls were bandaged, some wore splints or had their arms in slings. All of them were scared, yet looking to Buffy in hope. They'd all heard about her success at the vineyard, and her killing Caleb with the Scythe. They were willing to listen to her this time around.

_Another speech_, Buffy thought ruefully. Her gaze immediately went to Spike, standing amidst the crowd with his hands in his coat pockets. Their eyes met, and Buffy drew strength from the confidence he had in her. The Slayer took a deep breath and spoke, "I hate this. I hate being here. I hate that you have to be here. I hate that there's evil, and that I was chosen to fight it. I wish a whole lot of the time that I hadn't been." Her eyes settled on Kennedy for a moment. "I know a lot of you wish I hadn't been, either."

Kennedy looked away, somewhat abashed.

Buffy continued, "This isn't about wishes. This is about choices. I believe we can beat this evil. Not when it comes. Not when its army is ready. Now. Tomorrow morning, I'm opening the seal. I'm going down into the Hellmouth, and I am finishing this once and for all."

A ripple of consternation ran through the Potentials, but for now they remained silent. Buffy pushed on to stall any protests, "Right now, you're asking yourself, what makes this different? What makes us anything more than a bunch of girls being picked off one by one? It's true. None of you have the power that Faith and I do." She drew herself up. This was it, the instant where she either convinced them she was insane, or inspired them to follow her.

"So, here's the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power? Now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men. This woman," she pointed at a nervous Willow, "is more powerful than all of them combined. So, I say we change the rule. I say my power should be _our_ power. Tomorrow, Willow will use the essence of the Scythe to change our destiny. From now on, every girl in the world who _might_ be a Slayer, _will_ be a Slayer. Every girl who _could_ have the power, _will_ have the power. _Can_ stand up, _will_ stand up. Slayers, every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?"

A sea of wide eyes and gawping mouths confronted her. Nobody said a word for the longest time. Then, just as Buffy was starting to worry, the normally timid Vi got to her feet and declared with only the faintest tremor in her voice, "I'm ready."

Kennedy, not to be outdone, immediately followed suit, "I'm ready."

"I'm ready!" another girl said.

"I'm ready." "I'm ready!" "I'm ready..."

Only Spike was aware of the surge of relief that went through Buffy as every Potential stood up and added her voice. Pretty soon, all the girls proclaimed themselves ready. Buffy smiled proudly at them.

"Get as much rest as you can tonight," she instructed, "Tomorrow morning, we fight."

Buffy marched out of the living room in a rather dramatic exit. Spike immediately followed her, the edge of his coat swirling behind him. The two of them climbed the steps to the second floor and entered their room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Buffy dropped her confident façade and shakily sat herself down on the bed, her fingers digging into the comforter until her knuckles turned white.

Spike sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. "You were brilliant, luv."

"Yeah, brilliant," she rasped dully. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining with fear and doubt. "I just talked a bunch of teenaged girls into attacking the Hellmouth."

"Well, when Red works her mojo, they'll be a bunch of Slayers," Spike encouraged, "That'll even the odds out a bit."

"Assuming it works," Buffy couldn't help but point out, "I mean, I don't _know_ that it's gonna work. This could be just some crazy idea I came up with because I was desperate."

"It's gonna work," the vampire stated without hesitation, "You said it yourself, luv. We're gonna win."

Buffy let out an unsteady laugh. "Yeah, well, now that everybody's lives are on the line, I'm not so sure about that."

Spike pressed a kiss to her temple. "Whatever happens, I'm with you."

She cupped her hand to the side of his face and drew him in for a deeper kiss. Their foreheads touched when their lips finally parted.

"I need some air," Buffy murmured, eyes closed.

Spike nodded, "'Kay." He didn't try to follow when she stood and left the room. He knew she needed some time alone with her thoughts.

Buffy slowly descended the stairs and made her way to the front door. The house was dimly lit with numerous candles, and she heard a few voices murmuring in different rooms. Many of the Potentials had chosen to take advantage of all the empty houses by sleeping in a couple of the neighboring buildings. It gave everyone a chance at some privacy on what could be their last night on earth.

The Slayer leaned against the porch rail and stared out at the deceptively peaceful night. She didn't kid herself; whatever tomorrow's outcome, people were going to die. Some of the girls, certainly. Her closest friends, probably. Dawn, Giles, Spike... Her throat tightened. If Spike died, Buffy knew she'd die with him. There was a strange sort of comfort in that. Would Spike be allowed into Heaven with her? Buffy hoped so. She didn't see any point to Heaven if he wasn't with her.

"So, you figured it out."

The unexpected voice startled Buffy from her reverie. Her eyes darted to the foot of the porch steps where a familiar girl stood. "You're saying my plan's gonna work?"

The First Good climbed the steps onto the porch, pretended to lean against a support pillar. "Using the essence of the Scythe to awaken the essence of the Slayer in every Potential?" she grinned, "Sure. That's what the Scythe was made for. Other than slicing and dicing demons, of course."

"Why the hell couldn't you just tell me?" Buffy asked, her frustration obvious, "Why all the vague clues and cryptic hints?"

"'Cause _finding_ the answers was just as important as the answers themselves," the First replied, "All the crap you had to go through, every doubt and worry and second-guess, it's forced you to find those inner reserves you didn't even know you had. And it also taught you," a mischievous grin, "that the Slayer doesn't have to go it alone."

"You mean Spike." Buffy thought about the strength he'd given her when she wasn't sure she wanted to go on.

"I mean the Claim," the First Good clarified, "Before you two hooked up, Slayers have always been alone. Which means they always died alone, and way too soon. Doesn't matter how strong they were, how skilled they were at fighting, they always died young and alone. And worse, they thought that's how it was supposed to be. Even you thought so."

Buffy chewed her lip, eyes down. The First's words were hitting close to home. It was true; she'd always taken it as a given that she'd never live past her twenties. Even after she and Spike Claimed each other, part of her continued to believe this, because part of her still thought of herself as alone. But now, she suddenly realized, she didn't feel that way anymore. She could imagine herself living beyond the next handful of years. Seeing Dawn grow up. Seeing her friends get older. Having a life beyond slayage and duty. Because she would always have Spike at her side.

The First Good seemed to sense Buffy having this epiphany, because the girl chose that moment to flash a knowing smile.

"Now, I got a question for you."

Buffy cocked her head in curiosity.

"Why are you out here brooding when you could be doing some major life-affirming with a certain hot blonde vampire up in your room?"

The Slayer laughed. It felt good. But then she thought the girl had a point; why _was_ she wasting what could very well be her last night on earth alone (more or less) on the porch?

She looked at the incorporeal being beside her and found herself unable to hold back the one question she swore she wouldn't ask, "Are we gonna win?"

The First Good smiled. "Well, I can't give you a solid yes or no answer, but..." She held her arms out, inviting Buffy to scrutinize her. "This girl I'm wearing won't be born for many years. She doesn't exist. But she _will_," the First stressed, "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to wear her image. Her life is a promise, the kind that can't ever be broken."

"Is she human?" Buffy asked.

The girl shrugged. "More or less."

Buffy smiled, a sense of peace coming over her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, go on," the First shooed her, "Get to the life-affirming!"

Chuckling, Buffy trotted into the house to rejoin her lover.

* * *

Spike had shucked his duster, toed off his boots, and now lounged on the bed, staring at the amulet as it dangled from his hand. He found it hard to believe this garish piece of jewelry could be the key to their success in the coming battle. He didn't get any sense of the supposed power the thing held. It was just...there.

Maybe he was wrong to think that he was the one to wear it. It was meant for a champion, after all. Right now, Spike didn't feel like much of a champion.

The bedroom door opened and Buffy slipped in, shutting it behind her. She leaned back against the door and gazed at him, a smile that could only be described as serene gracing her face.

Spike placed the amulet on the bedside table and stood. Wordlessly, they closed the distance between them. Buffy's hand rose to cup the vampire's cheek. Spike's hands settled at her waist, fingertips teasing the hem of her shirt. Buffy raised her arms and her shirt slid off her. She then reached over and removed Spike's shirt, tossing it aside. Their arms went around each other, and she sighed at the feel of his cool skin against hers. Her eyes slid shut. They moved towards the bed together almost like a slow dance, until Buffy felt herself gently lowered onto the comforter. Spike's hands worked to undo her jeans and slide them off, along with her underwear. Buffy removed her bra and flung it away from her, then reached down to unbutton Spike's fly. Soon they were both naked, and Spike joined her on the bed.

For a while they simply caressed each other as they gazed into each other's eyes. There were no words, no declarations of love and eternal fidelity. They already knew everything that needed to be said.

Buffy pushed Spike onto his back and straddled him. She leaned down, her long hair forming a golden curtain around their heads as she took his lips in a languid kiss. Spike's hands glided over her skin, caressing her back, her hips and thighs, traveled up her sides and tenderly cupped her breasts. Buffy's mouth left his and she trailed kisses over his face, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his chin. His head tilted back as she followed the column of his throat. Her hands roamed over his chest and abs, making him shiver. Finally, she reached down to steady his straining erection and lowered herself onto him.

They both moaned quietly as their bodies joined. Spike sat up, wrapped Buffy's legs around his waist, and guided her movements with his hands on her bottom. He stared at her beautiful face with half-lidded eyes. Buffy's eyes were closed, her kiss-swollen lips parted in silent gasps. Her head fell back, exposing her slender throat. Spike resisted the urge to let his demon rise. Not yet. Instead, he kissed the soft skin of her neck and scraped his blunt human teeth over her Claim mark. Buffy trembled, her inner walls clenching around him. Spike grunted and felt the bones of his face shift.

Buffy smiled at the sight of his gameface, so beautiful and primal. She kissed him, the tip of her tongue exploring the points of his predatory fangs. A deep rumble reverberated through him. Buffy tilted her head to the side, baring the scar of the Claim to him. His fangs slid into her, just as her teeth sank into his own mark. The swirl of emotions shared by their link reached a crescendo as they both climaxed in the same instant.

This was Heaven, Buffy realized, right here. Whatever happened tomorrow, they would always have this. They needed no other comfort.

* * *

They all rode to the high school in a school bus driven by Robin Wood. Spike had to slouch low in his seat with his duster pulled over his head to shield him from the morning rays. Buffy sat beside him, her hands clenching and unclenching around the handle of the Scythe. Everyone was dealing with the strain of their short journey in their own way. Some checked their weapons, some stared out of the bus's windows, some prayed. Nobody talked. Any conversation would have been forced. None of them had the stomach for that.

It was something of a relief when the high school came into sight. Robin parked the bus as close to the main doors as he could and everyone piled out. Spike kept his coat draped over his head until they stepped through the doors, then he let it settle back on his shoulders.

"Welcome to Sunnydale High," the former principal announced as he marched at the head of the group, "There's no running in the halls, no yelling, no gum chewing. Apart from that, there's only one rule." They came to a halt in the main lobby and Wood turned to face them. "If they move, kill them."

Buffy pointed down one of the halls. "Okay, Potentials in the basement. Follow Faith and Spike."

As the girls followed the vampire and the Slayer, Xander called after them, "If you have to go to the bathroom, it's to your left. If you don't have to go to the bathroom, picture what you're about to face. Better to go now."

Robin addressed the witches, "Willow, Tara, my office is straight through there."

"It's right over the seal," Buffy told them.

"I'll start getting us set up." Tara accepted the supplies from her girlfriend and headed for the office. Kennedy went with her; once the spell was done, it was up to her to deliver the Scythe back to Buffy.

As for the others, they were needed to guard the three entry points any Turok-Han who managed to escape the Hellmouth could use to enter the sewers. Giles and Robin decided to take the lounge, Xander and Dawn the atrium, and Anya and Adrew would take the north hall. Hopefully, they wouldn't have too many übervamps to contend with.

"I'm gonna check out our field of engagement," Dawn said, heading towards the atrium.

Buffy started after her. "Dawn—"

"No," the girl turned to face her, too solemn for her years, "Anything you say is gonna sound like goodbye."

Buffy nodded and watched her sister walk away. She hoped it wouldn't be the last time she saw her.

Everyone else was in place. Only Buffy and the core Scoobies—Willow, Xander, and Giles—remained. Buffy's life in Sunnydale started with just the four of them. It felt appropriate that it was just the four of them now. She smiled and approached the small group, a wave of nostalgia bringing tears to her eyes.

"So," she said, keeping her tone light, "what do you guys wanna do tomorrow?"

"Nothing strenuous," Willow replied.

Xander shrugged, "Well, mini-golf is always the first thing that comes to mind."

"I think we can do better than that," Giles responded.

"I was thinking about shopping," Buffy stated, "as per usual."

"Oh! There's an Arden B. in the new mall," Willow suggested.

"I could use a few items," Xander nodded.

Giles looked on in dismay. "Are we gonna discuss this? Save the world or go to the mall?"

"I'm having a wicked shoe craving," Buffy confessed.

The Watcher sighed as the others continued chattering. "Here I am, invisible to the eye."

"See, I need a new look," Xander said as he and the girls started down one of the halls, "It's this whole eye patch thing."

"You could go with the full black secret-agent look," Buffy enthused.

Giles turned away and headed for the lounge, shaking his head. "The earth is definitely doomed."

The three friends walked side-by-side down the long hallway. Willow broke away from them when they reached the door to the principal's office. The other two smiled at her as she disappeared through the door. When the hall leading to the atrium branched off from the main hallway, Xander reached out and squeezed Buffy's hand before leaving to join Dawn. Buffy continued alone with the sense of having come full circle. Everything started for her in Sunnydale High, and now, one way or another, it was going to end there as well.

She entered the basement and negotiated the maze of tunnels until she found the others gathered around the Seal of Danzalthar. Faith had a knife in her hand; the same blade Andrew had used to kill Jonathan. She held it out to Buffy. "You first, B."

Buffy accepted the knife and used it to cut her left hand. Faith did the same, then the girl beside her, then the next girl, until everyone around the circle had used the knife. As one, they held out their injured hands and let their blood fall onto the seal. Within moments the seal folded back on itself and sank down, leaving behind a deep hole with a spiral staircase at its outer edge. Buffy led the procession down into the Hellmouth.

They found themselves in a nondescript cavern. So far, there was no sign of the Turok-Han army.

Spike walked up to Buffy, holding up the amulet he was wearing. "Not to be a buzzkill, luv, but my fabulous accessory isn't exactly tingling with power."

"I'm not worried," the tension in her voice belied that statement. She wandered towards a sheer drop, her dread growing as she neared the edge.

"I'm getting zero juice here," the vampire complained, "And I look like Elizabeth Taylor."

"Cheer up, Liz," Faith retorted, "If Willow's big spell doesn't work, it won't matter what you wear."

"I'm not worried." Buffy reached the edge of the drop, the others beside her. They peered down into an enormous cavern, and saw its floor seething with hundreds upon hundreds of snarling, eager Turok-Han. They'd found the First's army.

"I'm not worried," Buffy repeated in a higher voice.

"Really?" Rona gulped, clutching her stake like a lifeline, "'Cause I'm flashing back to Xander's whole bathroom speech."

Buffy forced herself to sound more confident, "I'm not worried. Long as Willow can work her spell before they..."

The army's collective noise abruptly silenced as thousands of eyes turned up towards the huddled girls.

"...see us."

With a deafening roar, the Turok-Han surged forward and began to climb the cavern walls towards them like a mass of giant insects. The Potentials looked ready to panic as they clutched their weapons and waited for the enemy to reach them.

_Come on, Willow,_ Buffy silently urged. Her left hand unconsciously reached for Spike's, their fingers squeezing each other for reassurance.

Then it happened. A surge of energy, like a breath of wind. The Potentials' eyes widened and their mouths opened as they exhaled together. Their terror slipped away and broad smiles stretched across their faces.

"These guys are dust," Vi declared with an eager grin.

The first wave of Turok-Han reached them, and the Slayers surged forward to meet them. Weapons clashed, vamp-dust flew, screams and battle cries filled the air.

Kennedy came running down the spiral stairs, the Scythe in her hand. "Buffy! Catch!"

Buffy caught the weapon Kennedy threw to her and immediately used it to stake an übervamp behind her. She whirled and beheaded another, then another. The blade sang in her grasp.

Spike stumbled as a wave of—something—came over him. He reached down to touch the amulet hanging from his neck and hissed when the gemstone burned his fingers. "Buffy! Look at this thing, now. I think it's—" He cried out, feeling as if his nerve endings were on fire.

Buffy couldn't let herself be distracted, even though she sensed his pain. She continued to shout out orders. "Keep the line together! Drive them to the edge! We can't let them—"

An unseen Turok came up behind her and ran her through with its sword. Buffy gaped down at the blade protruding from her stomach, then collapsed as it was abruptly withdrawn. Faith saw what happened and rushed to her side. Buffy weakly raised her head. With a trembling hand, she lifted the Scythe towards the other Slayer. "Hold the line."

Grim-faced, Faith nodded and took the weapon. She wielded the Scythe with the same instinctive skill as Buffy, slaughtering übervamps right and left. But more kept coming. Pretty soon, Faith was being overwhelmed. She managed to throw the Scythe to Rona just before she disappeared under a writhing pile of Turok-Han.

Lying helpless on the ground, Buffy saw one girl after another fall prey to the vampires. Most of them she didn't remember their names, but she saw Amanda fall, her bloodied stake clattering to the floor beside her. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut in pain.

"Oh, no. Ow!" a sarcastic voice reached her ears. Buffy opened her eyes to see her doppelganger, complete with bleeding stab wound, standing over her.

"Mommy," the First pouted, "this mortal wound is all itchy." It knelt down in front of the wounded Slayer, a malicious smile on its borrowed face. "You pulled a nice trick. You came pretty close to smacking me down. What more do you want?"

Buffy's pain was being replaced with rage. She pushed herself up on her arms and snarled at the apparition, "I want you...to get out of my face."

The First reared back in surprise as Buffy slowly got to her feet. New strength rose up in her, familiar somehow. If she could have seen her own reflection, Buffy would have discovered that her eyes had turned yellow. Spike's demon had risen up in her, lending its strength to hers.

Rona saw Buffy was back in the fight and threw the Scythe to her. Buffy caught it and immediately sliced through a row of Turok-Han in front of her, sending their bodies tumbling into the chasm.

Meanwhile, Faith successfully fought her way free of the mob and the rest of the new Slayers began to rally. What had looked like certain victory for the enemy suddenly became less so as the girls started to push their forces back. But even so, the numbers favored the Turok-Han. Thirty-odd Slayers weren't enough to hold back the tide forever. All they could do was buy some time. Time, as it turned out, for the amulet to build up enough of a charge.

Spike gasped, "Oh, bollocks."

A blazing column of light erupted from him, punching through the ceiling into the high school, through that into the open sky, drawing down the sun's energy straight into the amulet and its wearer. Spike stood in the light, unable to move. "Buffy!"

"Spike!" Buffy started to run towards him.

Beams of concentrated sunlight radiated from the amulet. They scoured the entire massive cavern, vaporizing the entire vampiric army within seconds. The beams were also powerful enough to cause the cavern walls to start crumbling. Huge stones began to rain down from the ceiling.

Faith started herding the girls towards the stairs. "Everybody out! Now!"

While the others were escaping, Buffy hurried to Spike's side. She staggered, her earlier preternatural strength drained. Her eyes were back to their natural hazel-green. She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt blood seeping between her fingers.

"I can feel it, Buffy."

She blinked at the vampire, struggling to focus. "What?"

"Our soul," he smiled in wonder, "It's really there. Kinda stings."

Buffy laughed weakly.

The last of the girls disappeared up the stairs. Faith ran over and grabbed Buffy's arm. "Come on!"

"No," Buffy refused calmly. She shared a look with Spike, and Faith saw something pass between them.

The vampire spoke to Faith, "Go on, then. You've beat them back. It's for me to do the cleanup."

"But Buffy—"

"I'm not leaving him." She smiled ruefully, indicating her wound, "Even if I was in any shape to go anywhere."

The chamber was collapsing. The Hellmouth imploding on itself.

"Gotta move, lamb," Spike admonished, grinning, "Think it's fair to say, school's out for bloody summer."

Faith shook her head, torn between saving herself and trying to help them. "Guys—"

"He's gotta do this." Buffy held the Scythe out to her. "Take it."

Faith met the Slayer's eyes, saw only peaceful acceptance in them. She accepted the Scythe and, with a final nod, ran up the stairs.

Buffy turned to Spike, reached up to lace her fingers with his. Flames burst around their joined hands, but there was no pain. Spike smiled, "I wanna see how it ends."

"I already know how it ends," Buffy said, "I think you're gonna like it."

She leaned in and met his lips with hers. For a moment, their bodies were engulfed by the flames, and Buffy was sure this was it. The link between them flared, and in that instant, their thoughts and emotions merged into a single being. The amulet flared, blinding white, then it abruptly flickered and died. Buffy gasped and her legs gave out. Spike caught her, scooped her up in his arms. He didn't pause to wonder what happened. He just ran. Up the stairs, into the high school to find the doors blocks by fallen rubble. He raced for the stairs leading to the roof. When he reached the door, he kicked it open with enough force to break it from its hinges. Morning sunlight poured over him as he raced out onto the roof.

"Spike!" Buffy cried.

The vampire either ignored her warning or didn't hear. Far below, he saw the school bus racing down the street. He could feel the building crumbling under him and immediately leapt onto the closest neighboring roof. And not a moment too soon; the high school collapsed into the imploding Hellmouth, leaving a deep pit that grew outward like a gigantic maw, consuming everything around it. Spike barely kept ahead of the devastation, leaping from rooftop to rooftop as he chased after the retreating bus. Finally, there were no more buildings ahead of him.

"Hold on, luv."

Buffy's arms tightened around his neck.

He only had one chance. Spike didn't hesitate. He put everything he had into one final, powerful jump. As he and Buffy arced through the air, the school bus appeared below them, right in their path. Spike prayed the landing didn't hurt the Slayer any further.

Their bodies slammed onto the top of the bus, and they somehow managed to keep from sliding off. The bus drove on until it came to a groaning halt outside the city limits. Or rather, what _used_ to be the city limits. Spike lifted his head to see nothing but a massive sunken pit where Sunnydale once stood. As he watched, the WELCOME TO SUNNYDALE sign teetered on the edge and then toppled into the crater.

"Spike..."

He turned his head to look at Buffy. The Slayer was smiling in awe. "Spike, you're okay."

"Yeah. Little shook up, but—" His eyes widened at the realization that he was lying in the open, in the sunlight, and he wasn't burning. "Bloody hell..."

"Buffy! Spike!" Dawn's voice called up to them.

Spike quickly jumped down from the bus and helped the wounded Slayer to the ground. Buffy wobbled unsteadily, but kept her feet. Her wound seemed to have stopped bleeding.

Dawn rushed over to give her sister a hug. Everyone else was exiting the bus, their amazed stares shifting between the huge crater and the decidedly non-crispy vampire standing in their midst.

"I don't understand," Giles's voice was faint with shock, "What did this?"

"Amulet destroyed the Hellmouth," Spike replied, removing the chain from his neck, "Took down the whole bloody town while it was at it." He gazed down at the oversized gemstone. Where before it had been clear and sparkling, now it was clouded and dull. "Looks like it was a one time only deal," he mused. With a shrug, Spike drew back his arm and chucked the amulet into the crater.

"B-But how come you're not burning?" Dawn stammered.

The vampire shrugged. "Dunno. Could be the Claim. Could've been the amulet. Could be both."

"One thing's for sure," Faith remarked, "looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business."

"There's another one in Cleveland," Giles muttered, "not to spoil the moment."

"We saved the world," Xander declared, amazed they'd actually done it.

"We _changed_ the world," Willow clarified, an awed smile on her face, "I can feel them, Buffy. All over. Slayers are awakening everywhere."

Not just the Slayers. All over the world, Intendeds were Called. Most male, some female, most vampire, some other demons, and all suddenly experiencing emotions and longings they'd never had before and didn't understand. But they would, once they and the Slayers started to find each other.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us," Giles declared.

Faith laughed, "I just wanna sleep, yo! For, like, a week!"

"Guess we could, now. If we wanted to," Dawn pointed out.

Spike smiled down at the petite blonde in his arms. In the bright sunlight, her hair looked more golden than ever. He never imagined anything could be so gorgeous.

"You're not the only Slayer in the world, now," he told her.

Buffy blinked in surprise. He was right. It didn't all fall to her to save the world anymore. She could actually have a life. She could even quit if she wanted to! A whole world of possibilities suddenly opened up before her.

"So," Spike grinned, "what do you wanna do, luv?"

Buffy's answering smile rivaled the sun in its brightness.

* * *

EPILOGUE:

Down in the wreckage that was once the Hellmouth, beneath the remains of the town of Sunnydale, the First Evil stood in defeat. It wore the image of Buffy as she'd looked at the end; cut over the left eye, bleeding stomach wound.

The First Good appeared beside her twin. The siblings stood together, gazing out over the devastation.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way," the girl said.

Not-Buffy snorted in derision, "You can't even gloat. God, you're pathetic."

The girl sighed. Gloating was what ultimately defeated her twin. Not that she was going to rub it in by saying so. Instead, she said, "The Hellmouth's gone. Your army's wiped out. The Bringers are all dead."

"You're saying I'm alone," the First Evil muttered bitterly.

The First Good shook her head. "No. You've still got me."

"It was that amulet. I would have won if it wasn't for that damned thing." Not-Buffy scowled at the girl. "It was supposed to be lost."

"Not lost," the girl corrected, "Just kept someplace for safekeeping 'til it was needed."

"You had it hidden inside the vaults of an evil multidimensional corporation," the First Evil scoffed, shook its head, "I gotta admit, that's the last place I ever would've looked."

"That was the idea."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment.

"So, what now?" the First Evil asked.

"Now?" the girl shrugged, "We wait until the Powers That Be decide you've learned your lesson and let you go."

"When will that be, I wonder."

The First Good looked at her twin. "When you finally accept things the way they are."

"You mean like you?" The First Evil's borrowed face contorted in disgust. "Even the lowest mortal has more power over the world than we do. We're the First. We're the source of all reality, and we can't do anything to affect it. How is that fair? How can I ever accept that?"

"Someday you will," the First Good promised.

"I hate you," Buffy's doppelganger hissed.

"I know," it's twin answered calmly, "But I'll always love you."


End file.
